


The Effects Of Shame

by Jinx72



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Dadceit, Deceit Is Basically Remus' Dad, Enemies to Lovers, Food mentions, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, It Does All Work Out I Promise, Lots of Crying, M/M, Nothing explicit, Panic Attacks, Pining, Repression, Self Harm, Sexual Themes, Some Bad Communication, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, The Imagination, The Twins are Good Brothers, The violence mentioned in the warnings is mostly for Remus does to himself, There will probably not?? be smut in this??? but i reserve my right to porn in the future, Virgil goes nonverbal sometimes, also they play boardgames at some points, and it's called Cluedo, aslfhklg sorry, bc ur wrong goodbye, blood is drawn during a panic attack, death mention, dont really know to describe it, food related issues, i cant think of much else but if i do illl tag it, implied eating disorder, ish, lots of it too, self deprecation, self neglect, sexual mentions, slowburn, so don't @ me and tell me it's called Clue, that's just what it's called, touch starvation, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 79,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23854222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: Remus... has a crush. Just a small little thing, so inconsequential, well, you probably can't even call it that! ...right?Wrong. Very wrong. He's in absolutely in-over-his-head pining for Patton, and he knows that people like him don't get happy endings....Right?Intruality, background roceit, the rebuilding of Virgil and Remus' friendship, Remus finding friends where he didn't think he had them, and just.... Remus working on his self worth. (he doesn't have a lot.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, ill think about it - Relationship, maybe analogical later idk
Comments: 463
Kudos: 528





	1. Chapter 1

It was one of Remus’ stupider moves, if he was being honest. It wasn’t part of the plan, it wasn’t on the books. It wasn’t approved, it wasn’t smart. It was dumb. D, to the U, to the M and B, _dumb._  
Usually, he told Deceit what he did and how he felt at nearly all times (because that’s how it worked. He trusted Deceit to not tell other people things, and Deceit trusted Remus not to force him to spill his beans), but this time?  
It was so, god-damned _stupid_ he couldn’t admit it to _himself,_ let alone anyone else.  
Because it might’ve crept up on him, a bit. It might’ve been a small thing that he hadn’t really noticed until now.  
Because Remus had… just a _little bit_ , just _maybe,_ in fact, it was most likely that it was absolutely nothing at all! But there _was_ a small possibility that he, uh, _might_ have…  
_falleninlovewithPatton._

There. He said it.

Remus flopped back on his bed, groaning into his hands loudly. This was so dumb! This was pathetic! He knew he never ‘thought’ before he did things, but this was just… a _whole new level_ of idiot.  
He was intrusive thoughts. The dark side of creativity. He was impulse, and pure unfiltered thought.  
He was dark and dangerous and unbearable, and _Patton_ was-  
Remus let out a dreamy sigh.  
- _perfect.  
_And then Remus flinched. There. That. _That_ was the stuff he wasn’t allowed to think.  
But much like, well, basically everything else that went through the Duke’s head, Remus just couldn’t help himself.  
Patton was so… nice! And sweet! And lovely! Patton was kind and patient and fun, and gave the best-looking hugs, and told great jokes, and he had bright eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and-  
Remus slapped himself.  
A good, hard crack across his own cheek, which left him gasping and blinking back instinctual beads of tears, ears ringing.  
_Pull yourself together,_ he growled at himself.  
And… it helped. For the time being.

But Remus knew himself well. And he wasn’t very good at denying himself stuff. But this _had_ to be the difference. Because… just _imagine!_ Imagine if they all found out!  
Dee would be so disappointed, that Remus let himself go so badly. Roman would hate him even more. Logan would most likely just laugh at him, and send him straight back into the cold. Virgil… would _probably_ kill him.  
Patton would…  
Remus tugged at his har. He didn’t _know_ how Patton would react. But he knew one thing for certain. Patton would turn him down immediately.

Remus grumbled curses under his breath, mostly at himself, as he kicked off his clothes and doggedly burrowed under his blankets, tugging the covers up over his head and trying not to dream of Patton as he drifted off to sleep.

\---

Remus tried very hard to be exactly as he normally was the next day, and the day after that, and every day from that point onwards. But he had to admit it.  
It was wearing thin.  
Because Remus couldn’t _remember_ what not-liking Patton felt like. This imperceivably small constant needling of attraction had grown into a comfortably familiar choking thrumming in his chest. And it was hard. It was hard to be himself with this… reminder. This reminder of who didn’t like how he behaved. And of who he wished did.  
And Remus was scared, honestly, because he knew that _Deceit_ knew something was up. _That_ wasn’t a confrontation Remus was ready for. Honestly? He didn’t think he’d _ever_ be ready for it.  
And so, after braving his façade for a few weeks, Remus allowed himself a day of respite, and slipped off to go pester his brother instead.

He left himself into Roman’s room with abnormally little fanfare, and he even closed the door politely behind him.  
“Ah, Logan, what can I-!” Roman started, pulling out an earbud and swivelling his seat around to face the person at the door, only for his face to drop at the sight of Remus.  
Roman had his sword in hand in an instant. Aimed at him, ready to spring out of his chair and attack in a heartbeat.  
Remus shifted on his feet.  
“If you’re expecting someone,” he mumbled, staring at his boots, “I can go.”  
Roman stared for a moment.  
He then set his sword down. Remus glanced up hopefully to see something soft creep onto the prince’s face.  
“What can I do for you, Remus?” he asked, quiet and tentative.  
Remus rubbed his arms and looked back up hesitantly.  
“Can I just…” he gestured limply, “sit? In here? With you?”  
Roman stared at him in silence.  
Remus sighed.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll just go.”  
_Should’ve known,_ he told himself as he went fumbling for the doorknob.  
“No, wait,” Roman finally piped up, and with a wave of his hand, a sofa appeared beside his desk. “O-of course you can. Sorry.”  
Remus smiled, a thin but thankful twist of his lips, before slinking across the room to take Roman up on his offer of seating.  
“I’m just working on some drafts for future episodes,” Roman told him without really looking up. “…You can stay if you’re quiet.”  
“Thanks,” Remus mumbled.  
He settled on the sofa – perfectly plush and wonderfully comfortable – and drew his knees up to his chin.  
…If he was trying to pretend nothing was wrong, he was doing an _awful_ job of it. Remus tried not to stare at his brother as Roman worked, but Remus had quickly figured out he’d forgotten to bring something to _do._ And Deceit had been trying to get him out of the habit of biting the skin around his fingernails, so that took one activity off the list.  
Roman looked up at him. Remus turned away with a muttered apology.

After a moment, there came the sound of sorting through drawers, and Roman cleared his throat as he slid a sketchbook across his desk towards Remus, who accepted it with shaking hands.  
“One of my spares,” Roman explained, passing his brother a pencil and eraser too, and shifting his pencil case so that Remus could reach his colouring-in pencils too. “And ask if you need anything else, okay?”  
Remus swallowed down the lump in his throat.  
“Okay,” he whispered back hoarsely, settling back and opening the blank sketchbook. “Thanks, Ro.”  
He balanced it across his knees as Roman turned back to his work silently, and Remus quickly let himself fall into idle doodling so Roman could focus, and he could try and soothe his own thoughts.

Remus wasn’t putting much thought into what he was drawing, not really. But he ended up sketching a few random shapes, before his pencil ghosted the shape of someone’s head and shoulders. And then… his hand moved to fill in details. Details like impossibly soft hair that looked like carding your fingers through it would be a heavenly experience. Details like round cheeks, flushed from laughter and smiling. Bright brown eyes that seemed to glint with a mischievous light. Laughter lines crinkled around his eyes. And glasses that framed the face-  
Remus blanched.  
He quickly turned the page before Roman could catch sight of what he’d done.  
Remus brow furrowed as he started anew over the page. The minutes ticked by.  
As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, the soft smile on this half-formed sketch couldn’t _be_ anyone else.  
Remus turned the page again.  
He started to draw again, someone curled up on the sofa, wrapped up tight and cosy in a blanket and head on the armrest, peacefully asleep… like how he’d caught _Patton_ one night, and Remus turned the page.  
He tried again and again, pencil digging into the paper with a building desperation he was doing his best to swallow down, but no matter what he did, Patton just kept worming his way in.  
Remus started down at the set of hands he’d drawn; the nails were painted Patton’s favourite colour, the ring Logan had gifted him seven years ago on his left middle finger, his watch and three bracelets on his wrists, those hands clutching Patton’s favourite mug.  
Remus felt _sick._  
He shouldn’t know all this. He shouldn’t remember him so well, know his physicality so well.  
Remus turned the page, and stared at the blank paper for a moment. He tried to put the pencil to paper, but couldn’t, with how much his hand was shaking.  
This was pathetic. He’d only been crushing a little on Morality for like…

Oh _fuck._

The pencil fell from Remus’ hand with a clatter. Roman looked up to chide him for the noise, but immediately switched tracks when he saw the look on Remus’ face.  
Remus hugged the sketchbook tightly to his chest and curled in on himself, feeling cold tears leak down his face and shrivelling up, shying away.  
Roman was frozen, staring in what Remus could only place as _horror._  
Something in his chest was thrumming, something light and airy which had kicked up the dust, throwing him for such a loop, something which had been plaguing him for _months._

_Fuck.  
He was in love with Patton._

He gasped for breath, loud and high, and flinched away when Roman touched him.  
“Remus,” Roman said, soft and concerned. “Do you want me to go get Virgil? Deceit?”  
“No,” Remus immediately cried, voice louder than it was supposed to be, grabbing Roman’s wrist a little too tight. “No, no, no. They can’t know.”  
“Know what?” Roman prompted, eyes surprisingly sympathetic, and he let Remus cling to him as he moved to kneel in front of him.  
“I’ve done something bad,” Remus rasped out. “Something unforgivable.”  
“What else is new?” Roman tried to joke, trying to bait a smile out of Remus, but it only succeeded in goading Remus’ hyperventilation.  
“I-I shouldn’t have, I know,” Remus babbled, the sketchbook falling to the floor, ignored by both of them. “I can’t have him. I’m just good at wanting bad things.”  
Roman froze, before urgency crept onto his face and he took Remus by the elbows, trying to get his brother to _look at him._  
“Who?” he demanded. “What can’t you have, Re?”  
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus choked out, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t… It’s not for things like me, I _know_.”  
“You’re not a _thing_ ,” Roman countered firmly, a distraught tone in his voice. “Re, _please,_ I can’t help you if you don’t _tell_ me.”  
“There’s nothing to _help!”_ Remus screamed, and he ripped his hands away so he could tear at his hair. “I’m not allowed to love-!”  
He slammed his hands over his mouth so hard it hurt, eyes wide and panicky. He wasn’t supposed to… he couldn’t…  
Roman turned his attention to the sketchbook that had fallen beside him, and Remus watched him pick it up and open it with a horrible smothering feeling that had been plaguing him as long as this other lightness had been, watching his brother flick through it slowly, before watching Roman look up at him with sad eyes.  
“Oh, Remus,” he murmured.  
Remus buried his head in his hands and started to cry in earnest.

Surprisingly, Roman didn’t kick him out after that revelation. He had shoved all his work aside in an instant and had clambered onto the couch beside his brother, and wrapped his arms around him. He gently pulled Remus towards him, and Remus went willingly, sobbing into Roman’s chest and feeling Roman hug him tightly.  
He wanted to ask why. Why was Roman comforting him? Why was Roman even touching him?  
But he couldn’t get the words straight, his train of thought constantly washed away by the uncontrollable waves of grief that kept shocking more and more tears out of him.  
Someone opened Roman’s door.  
Remus flinched, but Roman didn’t let him go.  
“Roman, how are those drafts… coming…?”  
“Not now,” Roman ordered sharply. “Come back later, Logan.”  
There were a few hesitant footsteps, before Roman’s door closed again.  
Remus clung to Roman’s jacket, trying to tame his breathing, because he’d taken up too much of his brother’s time, he was ruining things, he just needed to buck up and move on.  
“Don’t cut it short,” Roman advised, and there was a hand in Remus’ hair that had him melting into his brother. “I know just how bad it hurts.”  
Remus buried his head in Roman’s shoulder and tried to smother his noises. He hadn’t _told_ anyone this. This was just a phase he had vowed to outgrow, or if that failed, to take to the grave.  
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, scrunching up his face. “I didn’t _mean_ to, I’m moving past it, I swear I-”  
“How long have you been ‘moving on’ for, Remus?” Roman asked dryly.  
Remus curled in on himself.  
“Like…” he mumbled, “Five? Six months?”  
_“Months,”_ Roman echoed sadly.  
“I’m moving on,” Remus promised again, voice wobbly and lame.  
“Why?”  
“Because I have no choice!” Remus snapped, looking up at Roman with wide, frustrated eyes. “ _Look at me,_ Roman! No one wants to be in the same room as me. No one even wants to _touch_ me! I’m foul, I’m awful, I’m deranged, I’m _dangerous._ He knows I can and will hurt you all. I…”  
He put his head down. He wanted to pull away, to relieve Roman of having to lay hands on him, to give in to this horrible smothering feeling that he couldn’t name, but the weight… the warmth…  
Roman’s embrace set his skin on fire, and he didn’t have to will to deny himself that any longer.

Roman started to hum, low and quiet in the back of his throat. It was surprisingly grounding, something soothing that helped Remus drag his focus away from his own tumultuous thoughts and onto the melody. As the duke in his arms relaxed, Roman’s tune petered off, and Roman put his chin on top of Remus’ head with a soft sniffle.  
“Brother?” Remus inquired softly, not moving from where he was bundled up in Roman’s arms.  
“We’re just two touch-starved bastards, huh,” Roman laughed, voice thick and cracking as he tried to wipe his cheeks dry on his shoulder. “Here I thought Deceit was looking after you.”  
“He’s got _boundaries,”_ Remus countered, almost _insulted_ at what the prince was insinuating. “I might not have a filter, but I-I don’t… y’know, consent is a thing! I can’t just go around touching people!”  
Roman chuckled, low and sad.  
“A-and _you!_ You’re telling me the _light sides_ of all people don’t do cuddles and shit?!” Remus demanded, sitting up to properly stare incredulously at his brother.  
“No, they do, they do!” Roman rushed, like he was defending someone’s honour to the death, or some such. “…Sometimes, y’know? People are busy! A-and most of them don’t _like_ physical attention, and-”  
“I can’t speak for Logan,” Remus interrupted angrily, “but I know Patton adores it, and I can tell you for a _fact_ that Virgil is a complete and utter cuddlebug.”  
Remus frowned.  
“He… _was,”_ he corrected himself in a most _broken_ voice. “But I don’t think people change that fundamentally that quickly.”  
Roman’s eyes were shining, and he pulled away to hug himself tightly, and there was something Remus might call _guilt_ in the prince’s eyes.  
“Of course,” he mumbled, trying to bat away his own tears roughly. “He basically admitted his love language was touch, didn’t he? Of _course._ No wonder him and Patton are always cuddling during movie nights.”  
Remus tried to reign in the spike of jealousy that sent his thoughts spiralling.  
“Shit,” Roman said. “I-it’s not like that, Remus, I swear. …I think.”  
Remus laughed it off as best he could, but recoiled majorly as Roman choked down a sob and practically slammed his head into his hands.  
“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered, in a voice so broken and hoarse, just _hearing_ it tugged Remus’ heart all the way to sit firmly in his throat. “I never say the right things. I keep making things worse. I’m _sorry.”_  
It was Remus’ turn to pull Roman into a tight hug, arms thrown around his neck desperately.  
“No,” he growled. “No, no, _no._ I’m the bad one, okay?”  
“You don’t see what I do,” Roman choked out. “I’ve never said a kind thing in my life. I’m petty and cruel and shallow. They all _hate_ me, and wish they had nothing to do with me, I know it.”  
Remus hugged him tighter as Roman tried very hard not to cry.  
There came a loud _bang_ at the door, a few loud bangs, like someone drumming with their fists, before someone kicked it down.

Remus looked up to see Virgil glowering fiercely at him, trying to put two and two together at the sight of the Duke with a frozen, a crying Roman in his arms. Behind him was Patton, trying his hardest to be brave.  
But the moment their eyes met, Remus was hit by the pure terror in Patton’s eyes – just how scared the side was of _him_ – and…  
his heart broke.  
Remus let Roman go, quickly trying to pry his brother’s desperate hands off his jacket as Virgil stormed over and grabbed him by the sash, dragging him away.  
“What are you doing to him?!” Virgil snapped, and Remus was too tired to find a retort. “Did _Deceit_ send you?”  
The way Virgil spat out Dee’s name, the venom on his lips purely from the sight of Remus, _that_ broke his heart even more.  
What was he supposed to say?  
“It’s not-” Roman started.  
“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered hoarsely.  
Virgil _flinched_ at his tone, grip loosening ever so slightly, and it was enough that Remus could twist out of his hold.  
Virgil drew back, stepping protectively in front of Patton. Remus just scooped up his sketchbook and glanced at them. When he was only met with fear and hostility, he choked down an ugly sound and tossed an apology over his shoulder to Roman, before rushing from the room, brushing past Patton and unable to even _look_ at him, just imagining the confusion and hurt and fear that must be searing into the back of his scalp as he ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i have been eager to share this one for a while but it's a bit up-and-down, and it certainly won't have, like, an upload schedule?? this is just. A side project ig. and like i have no clue how long this'll take so bear with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit tries to comfort him. Virgil tries to confront him, and only succeeds in opening old wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just gonna yeet a few chapters up tonight

He was a coward. That was it. He was just a plain old fucking _coward_ as he booked it from Roman’s room, brushing past Logan in the corridor as he heard Roman trying to call for him, and Logan tried to say something, but Remus was already gone, that smothering emotion he hated that made his stomach turn was ripe and present.   
He bolted back into the darkness, back into the subconscious and back into the cold, and he was only vaguely aware that Deceit was sitting up, waiting for him in their common room, and he missed how Deceit’s face immediately crumpled in concern.  
Remus didn’t see that. He just noticed Deceit was there, and kept running.

He threw himself into his room, slamming the door closed behind him, jamming a chair under the handle and falling to the floor in a sobbing mess, the sketchbook falling open beside him. As a serious of polite but hurried knocks sounded around the room, Remus looked up to see a Patton smiling gently from the open pages.  
It ripped a most pathetic noise out of him, and Remus could only curl in on himself, away from his sin, and try and tune out Deceit’s pinched and worried voice.  
“Remus? Please open the door, dear,” he heard Deceit ask, still knocking, and the handle rattled uselessly.  
Remus didn’t say a word, and didn’t move.  
He felt sick. He had been feeling _sick_ for so long, and it wasn’t an _illness_ , or anything. Something about the emotions around this whole crush thing had him feeling sick, and he didn’t know _why._  
All he knew was that he deserved it.

Minutes ticked by in mostly silence, only broken up with Remus’ depressing sniffles.   
And eventually;  
“Remus,” came a soft plead. “Please, what’s wrong?”  
Remus rolled over, away from the door, and stared at a pile of rubbish on his floor.  
“I can see you’ve been hurting, and I want to help you.”  
“I can’t tell you,” Remus said without thinking, but it was true, wasn’t it? He couldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone. He would get hurt. He’d get others hurt. He’d probably gotten Roman into so much shit right now. He should’ve known better.  
“I promise,” Deceit said, voice thick, “that you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.”  
“You would this time,” Remus bit back limply. “…You _would_.”  
“Why don’t you let me judge that for you?” Deceit prompted softly.  
“ _No_!”  
Remus clapped a hand over his mouth at how desperate he sounded.  
“Okay,” Deceit’s voice came through the door softly. “I’ll be here, for if you’re ready.”  
There was a scuffling sound, and then silence.  
And the silence was deafening.   
And the silence, eventually, lulled Remus into an empty, dreamless sleep.

\---

He regretted everything when he cracked his eyes open the next morning. It was early. It was early because Remus had fallen asleep in the early afternoon, and now it was… he looked around his room for a clock. It was four thirty in the morning.   
He felt sick, in that way he couldn’t control nor explain.   
But he sat up, clothes crumpled and back aching from a night on the floor, and felt a jolt of that awful emotion, and intense longing as his eyes fell on his open sketchbook.  
It took everything Remus had to reach over and pick the book up. He looked down at the drawing, and closed the sketchbook firmly before those ugly tears of his could spill over.

Standing up was hard. Finding the effort to toss the book onto his bed and going and removing the chair from where he’d wedged it in his frenzy last night.   
He felt… guilty.   
He didn’t feel that one too often, but it was justified now.  
After what he’d put Roman through yesterday, definitely.  
And as he cracked the door open, that feeling only doubled, threatening to rise and choke him as he saw Deceit. Deceit was sitting there, back against the wall, asleep in the most uncomfortable position Remus had ever seen.   
Waiting. For him.  
Remus clapped a hand over his mouth at the sight, and those tears he’d been fighting leaked out, that feeling that turned his stomach hitting him with full force.  
He didn’t deserve Deceit.   
Remus approached quietly, and knelt beside him, slipping his hands around Deceit, and lifting him easily. Deceit mumbled something in his sleep, and rested his head against Remus’ chest, leaning into his warmth, but he didn’t wake.  
Remus started off to Deceit’s room, hugging Deceit close and trying not to let his tears fall on the side in his arms. Words could not describe how much he appreciated Deceit. This quiet patience for him. He didn’t deserve it. But he couldn’t deny he was glad for it.  
He elbowed his way into Deceit’s room and crossed it swiftly, making a beeline for Deceit’s bed, and laying him on top of it gently. He tugged off Deceit’s boots, undid his cloak, removed his hat, and sat these all aside. The rest of his clothes, he could conceivably sleep in. From here, he tucked Deceit in, with the covers up to his chin, and fumbled with Deceit’s electric blanket so that his friend didn’t have to wake up cold and sore in the morning.  
He brushed Deceit’s hair out of his face, and took in how relaxed Deceit looked, and how he never got to see him like this, and he could only whisper a thank-you and leave as quietly as he could.

Remus wandered into their common room, and collapsed into the nearest sofa. He stared into space for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around himself tightly and found himself missing having Deceit cuddled to his chest. Not because he wanted that from Deceit – Deceit didn’t really like that much touch and he didn’t feel that sort of way about Deceit – but more so that he was just… hungry for contact. The hugs from Roman were _wonderful_ , but all they did was open an old wound. He’d been able to ignore the dull ache of being touch starved when it was a low, constant hum, but now? Now that he’d had a bit? It just reignited that searing, lonely hunger.   
He felt so cold.  
He found himself imagining Patton’s hugs – they always looked so warm – and found himself promptly crying.  
 _You’re not allowed that,_ he reminded himself harshly.  
He raised his hand to hit himself, try and slap those thoughts out of his head, punish himself for this stupid behaviour, when a voice cut into the silence.  
“What are you doing?”  
Remus jumped so badly he nearly fell off the couch.  
He scrambled to his feet to see Virgil standing there, arms crossed, glaring him down.  
Remus shrank back, stumbling away and falling over the coffee table as he went.  
Virgil’s glare shifted to surprise, to alarm as Remus fell with a cry. He winced as Remus cracked his head, and shuffled closer in concern as Remus didn’t get up straight away.  
Remus lay there, staring up at the ceiling, and let the pain wash over him. This was more effective than a slap, anyway.  
“…Remus?” Virgil asked quietly.  
“I’m here,” he said; absolutely redundant, but no less true.  
Virgil glanced around nervously.  
“Where’s Deceit?” he demanded.  
“Asleep,” Remus said, sitting up slowly. “He just got to bed. Why?”  
Virgil looked at him, and approached slowly, before sitting down on the couch, the couch he used to sit on, in his old spot, and Remus stayed where he was, on the floor, letting Virgil take as much space as he needed to feel safe.  
He understood wanting space. Remus sometimes wanted space from himself too. Unfortunately, that was one of the things he hadn’t figured out how to sort out, yet.  
Virgil stared him down, and Remus couldn’t be bothered to pretend he could keep up, letting his eyes fall to the carpet and letting Virgil look at him.  
“Why?” Virgil finally asked. “Why were you in Roman’s room yesterday? He’s still absolutely fucked up after whatever you said.”  
Remus laughed at that.   
“Don’t _fucking_ laugh,” Virgil growled, and the sound shrivelled up on Remus’ tongue as Virgil rose to his feet, the threat obvious.  
Remus tried to find an answer. An answer that would save his hide and also protect Roman and not reveal his awful secret, and…  
He couldn’t think of a thing.  
Remus bowed his head and stayed silent.  
“Give me an answer, damn it,” Virgil was crossing the room, grabbing him by the sash, dragging him to his feet, and Remus was furiously blinking back tears as the room spun and his stomach turned with that _emotion_.  
“I don’t have one,” Remus gasped out.  
“Bullshit,” Virgil snapped. “I _know_ you, Remus. You have an answer.”  
“You know me?” Remus laughed, bitter and tired, and he couldn’t fight those fucking tears any longer. “That’s bold of you. _I_ don’t even know me.”  
Virgil’s grip loosened. His face flickered with concern, but it was quickly smothered under a half-hearted sneer.  
“I know you can’t care,” Remus said tiredly, and he pried Virgil’s fingers off his clothes. “And I know you won’t care. But I’m…”  
He looked away, and decided not to even go there.  
“Roman’s touch starved as all hell,” he declared. “And I didn’t expect our old resident cuddlebug to go and just… perpetuate that shit.”  
Virgil’s eyes were wide.   
“He is?”  
“Did I fucking stutter?” Remus asked, too brightly to be really be genuinely happy. “And if _he_ is, and you guys live with _Patton,_ well, I guess _you_ never told him because I imagine he’d get you sorted out.”  
“He… got me ‘sorted out’,” Virgil mumbled and there was that emotion Remus had been feeling for months in Virgil’s voice, and he almost asked Virgil what it was, so he could put a name to it, but now wasn’t the time.  
“Well,” Remus nodded along. “Can you ‘sort’ Roman out too? He broke down in my arms about it.”  
 _And so did I,_ was what Remus didn’t add. He was getting surprisingly good at not-adding thoughts onto his sentences now.  
Virgil had recoiled, and guilt was plastered all over his face.   
“And you know it’s bad if he’s talking to _me_ about it,” Remus joked, and he felt like he should say that it was him who went to Roman rather than the other way around, but steering this conversation into a pity party for him at this point felt cheap.  
“Logan said he walked in on you crying in Roman’s arms,” Virgil said sharply.  
“We took turns,” Remus snarked back. “Sharing is caring, y’know?”  
The carefully constructed ice in Virgil’s eyes was melting. The hostility was flickering. He almost looked like he wanted to give Remus a hug.  
By god, did Remus want that.  
But,  
“You got your answers,” he said, folding his arms and staring Virgil down, their places turned on their heads. “You better go before you start doing something you’ll regret, like caring about us again.”  
Something flashed across Virgil’s face, something that hurt Remus’ chest to see.   
Then, Virgil took his advice, and turned tail and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woop here comes Deceit

Remus had settled onto the sofa with his new sketchbook and had sketched a few more things. A Virgil, with that fleeting look of concern for him creased between his eyes. A slumbering Deceit, propped up against the wall. A Roman, with tears in his eyes and a brave smile on his face.  
And Patton.  
Patton, afraid of him. Patton smiling at him. Patton laughing at something he said. Patton, basically glowing with joy. Patton, Patton, _Patton._ A wonderful, hypothetical Patton who was his. Who loved him.  
Oh.   
When did Remus start crying again?  
After a few hours, he heard shuffling footsteps, and Remus fumbled to close and set down the sketchbook as Deceit emerged into the common space, swaddled in a big woolly yellow sweater and pushing his hair out of his eyes with a yawn.  
“You didn’t wake me,” he noted, stopping a few yards away from Remus, and staring his friend down. “When you woke up.”  
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Remus shrugged idly, looking away. “You looked like shit. Thought you needed all the sleep you could get.”  
Deceit just stared at him for a moment, before quietly crossing the gap and sitting down on the other end of the sofa, leaving Remus his space.  
“Remus,” he said softly. “Please.”  
“I can’t,” Remus countered, already blinking back tears. “Please understand, Dee, I _can’t.”_  
Something in Deceit’s eyes looked hurt.  
“Is it a matter of trust?” he asked, and Remus felt his stomach turn again at how upset Deceit sounded. “Have I done something to offend or upset you?”  
“No,” Remus said miserably, and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.  
“If it’s a secret, I can keep it,” Deceit said, shuffling closer, voice pleading. “It’s eating you alive, Remus.”  
“Good,” Remus muttered, hunching over and leaning away. “I-it’s more than that. It’s something awful, Dee. You’d never… I couldn’t…”  
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, before cracking himself across the face again with an open palm.  
“Remus!” Deceit cried, lurching forward to catch Remus’ hand and keep it away from him. “Remus, please, you don’t deserve to hurt yourself!”  
Remus laughed at that, wet and grieving.   
“That’s a funny joke,” he said curtly, and he shook off his hand and rose to his feet.  
“Stop it,” Deceit snapped, rising to his feet as well, and Remus picked up his sketchbook and held it tightly, staring Deceit down. “Stop shutting me out.”  
“I’m just saving you from wasting your time,” Remus stated, a horrid bitterness creeping into his voice.  
“Don’t say that!” Deceit stepped close, and it took Remus a moment to realise he wasn’t _angry_ , but frustrated, and if Remus could place that properly… _scared._ “Y-you aren’t-! Remus, you’re never a waste of my time!”  
“That’s a lie,” Remus growled, and took a step backwards, a step away, and he watched Deceit’s face crumple painfully.   
“Please,” Deceit whispered hoarsely. “Remus, don’t misunderstand me. I can’t lose you to miscommunication. I can’t lose you too.”  
Remus blinked, and in a moment of horror, he realised that Deceit was crying. Crying about him. Crying _over_ him.  
“I-I…” Deceit took a step back as well, his finger brushed the one or two tears that had escaped him, almost looking surprised at his own emotions, like he wasn’t expecting to _feel_. “…It just feels like a cycle I can’t break. I-it’s not your fault. I’m sorry that I’m not there how you need me.”  
Remus choked on his breath.  
“You are!” he cried, rushing forward and taking Deceit’s hand, and the truth wanted to come spilling out, like oil, like sick, staining the air and his relationship with the side who _practically raised him_ because Remus’ own _heart_ of all things _betrayed the both of them_ , but he choked it all down, and it _hurt._ “You _are_ there! Look, Deceit, I know there is stuff you don’t tell me to protect me,” Remus tried to explain, eyes wide, and he squeezed Deceit’s hand what might’ve been a little too tight. “And it pisses me off sometimes, but at the end of the day, I know you’re doing it for me. _Please_ trust me, Dee, when I tell you this is the same.”  
Deceit recoiled slightly.  
“It…” Remus tried to breathe, and as Deceit’s free hand began to inch towards the sketchbook tucked under his arm, he flinched back as well.   
“I need time,” he begged, and Remus never _begged_ , but here he was, like an idiot. “Please, Dee. I will explain it to you as soon as I can, I _swear to you._ Hold me to it. But I can’t. Not right now. Maybe not even soon. But you can hold me to it.”  
“I will,” Deceit said, and he was deathly pale but trying to smile, like he was trying to comfort Remus, and he didn’t want to see the look on his own face, then. “I want to trust you, Remus. And you’ve never given me cause _not_ to trust you so far. It’s just…” Deceit’s face fell. “It’s _painful_ to watch you like this.”  
“I’m…”   
For maybe the first time, Remus thought about his words carefully.  
If he outright said he had gone to Roman, Deceit might get insulted. Because yes, Roman was his twin brother, but Deceit was the one who had looked out for him, who’d looked after him, who he trusted with his life and whom he told basically everything. Roman was related to him, but Deceit was his family.  
If he said the wrong thing the wrong way, he could blow _everything._  
The words dried up on his tongue.   
He had nothing to say. So he just… pressed a brisk, thankful kiss into Deceit’s knuckles and dropped his hand.  
“I’m working it out,” he decided to say. “I’m… I’m going to the Imagination, now. Gonna keep at it.”  
Deceit folded his arms, unconvinced, but smiled supportively anyway.  
“Take care of yourself, Remus,” Deceit warned. “And don’t hurt yourself.”  
“No promises,” Remus cooed, poking his tongue out, and he was off at a brisk, jaunty pace before Deceit could protest otherwise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has a run-in in the Imagination, and it ends very bittersweet for him. Logan tries to connect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol hi im just throwing up a few more chapters before i go to sleep

Okay. So, him going to the Imagination wasn’t a lie. Remus approached his access point and shouldered open the door, bumping it closed behind him and setting off at a brisk pace, away from Deceit, away from everyone.  
He just needed to figure this out.  
That was a good a lie to tell himself as any.  
Remus walked. He walked for an hour, maybe two, until his green-silver-and-black door was just a centimetre tall in the distance, and if he looked over to the left, he could make out Roman’s red -white-and-gold access point too, just as far away.  
For the first time in a _long_ time, Remus was alone.  
He sighed with relief, and slumped to the ground on a particularly soft patch of grass. This gave him a chance to think. To really think.  
Alone. With his thoughts.  
And the sky started to darken, not with clouds, but just… darken. Remus looked up, and sighed. A breeze picked up, whipping his hair into his eyes, and slowly, the environment around him started to spiral a little bit out of his control.  
It was fine, though. He could handle it. He was Creativity, after all.

It was hard to keep this thoughts straight over the wind, and then clouds came rolling in, and it started to hail, which hurt a bit, but Remus didn’t care. He stayed where he was, staring at the ground as ice pellets bounced and scattered around him.  
His sketchbook was in his lap, closed, and Remus felt that wave of sick-feeling hit him. He was getting fed up with that _thing_. He wanted to put a name to it, figure out what it was, and how it related to Patton, and get over it! Easy, right?  
The hail stopped.  
Remus looked up in time to catch a gust of wind in the face, and spluttered as he blinked through the blast of air that snatched the book out of his hands.  
Remus swore loudly, and went fumbling after it. He couldn’t bear to lose it, and unfortunately, it was pretty incriminating in someone else’s hands.  
But he froze in place on his knees when the book fell open on the ground in front of him, and in a shimmer of thought, a figure started to rise from the page.

A-sketch-made-real was the only way of describing the figure that came to life before Remus’ eyes. Made of paper and pencil lines, the wavering two-dimensional figure had its features filled out like some cosmic speedpaint, before it took a step forward, off the book. As it went, it seemed to morph into 3D, like its proportions were adjusting to Remus’ reality, and Remus could only gape from where he was on the ground as a Patton he’d sketched stooped over him, before smiling that soft, beautiful smile that Remus never thought would be directed at him, and offering the Duke a hand up.  
“Heya, Remus!” said the Patton construct in a perfect replication of Patton’s voice. “I gotta say, I’m _drawn_ to you, somehow!”  
Remus laughed. A sharp bark of laughter that was equal parts amusement and shock.  
“Where did you come from?” he breathed, letting the Patton take his hand and help him to his feet, and the Patton swept him up in a dancing position, spinning him in a little waltzy circle with a giggle.  
“I’m a part of your imagination!” the Patton said cheerfully. “A physical manifestation of your love, if you will.”  
Remus blanched at the L-word, flinching badly and trying to step back, but the Patton drew him in closer with a spin, hands going from Remus’ to his hips, and Remus couldn’t help himself but cling back.  
“This is wrong,” he said to himself, a muttered reminder, as the Patton pouted in concern at him.  
“It’s natural,” the construct shook its head sadly. “You’re allowed to fall in love.”  
“No, you don’t understand,” Remus said awkwardly, trying to peel the Patton’s hands off his hips and trying to keep himself from wishing beyond hope that one day these could be the real Patton’s hands. “ _I_ , personally, cannot be with who you’re representing. Ever.”  
The Patton’s face fell, sadness and concern painting its features.  
“That’s a tragic story,” it hummed, readjusting its embrace, slipping its hands under Remus’ arms and around his back. “But completely fictional.”  
“It’s not,” Remus snapped, hurt sharpening his tone. “It’s the truth.”  
The construct hummed again, and then it leaned close, lips brushing his throat tenderly.  
“Then stay here,” it offered softly, the words ghosting on Remus’ skin. “Stay here with me, and have everything you want.”  
Remus was staring into space, and at those words, tears leaked out.  
“I can’t,” he whispered, voice hoarse and broken. “Don’t you understand?”  
“I’m _your_ imagination,” the Patton reminded him. “I don’t think I’m the one you should be asking that.”  
 _“Remus!”_  
There was a call of his name, and it wasn’t from the construct in his arms. Remus jumped badly, trying to escape the Patton’s embrace, and he turned to see… _Logan?_ Traipsing across the Imagination, from Roman’s door, towards him.  
 _Shit.  
_ “How do I make you go away?!” he demanded frantically, finally wriggling out of the Patton’s embrace. “Can I like, put you back?”  
“Oh, you can,” said the figment. “If you ask nicely.”  
“Please?” Remus begged, gesturing to the open sketchbook and resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. He was running out of time.  
“Hmm,” the Patton smiled slyly. “I might need more convinci-!”  
Remus was running out of time. He tackled the Patton, ending up on top of the sketchbook, the Patton underneath him, and the way that the construct was smiling up at him set his heart fluttering in his chest.  
“Just one favour, then I’ll go back,” the Patton promised.  
“Anything,” Remus agreed readily, hearing Logan call his name again in confusion.  
The Patton smiled, and then-  
And _then.  
_ Then, it grabbed Remus by the collar and dragged him down, and-  
Pressed its lips against his.

Remus’ eyes flew wide open in horror, and when the construct let go, Remus was scrabbling back, gasping for air as the Patton giggled sweetly, waving at him before melting back into the book, until all that was left of it was the carefully-drawn sketch, that soft smile doing nothing for Remus’ nerves.  
“Remus!”  
Remus’ head snapped up, and the sight of Logan standing over him, vague irritation written all over his face, did nothing to stave off the panic attack that was trying to set its claws in his throat.  
“Logan,” he gasped. “Please… d-don’t…”  
He could only curl in on himself, and the tears started to flow in earnest, and all Remus could do was touch his lips gently, where his own thoughts had betrayed him.  
There was the rustle of movement, before Logan’s voice started to speak, calmly and slowly, and it sounded like he was issuing instructions.  
“Your grace? I would like you to pick out five things you can feel for me.”  
Remus’ mind was racing, but he tried to do as asked.  
“Uh,” he stammered, running his hands over his own jacket in a panic. “U-uh, lace?”  
“Yes,” Logan confirmed easily. “Very good. Four more.”  
“Um…” Remus latched his hands into the grass, and its softness almost distracted him. “Grass.”  
“Good. Three more.”  
“Breeze,” Remus added, closing his eyes as the wind rushed passed them, cold and grating against his skin.  
“Excellent,” Logan said, and Remus opened his eyes again at the word. “Two more, Remus.”  
“Um, skin,” he listed as he picked at the skin around his nails, and Logan nodded slightly in a way that meant he couldn’t exactly debate that as incorrect. “And uh…”  
He had nothing else. Remus couldn’t find a fifth thing, and he went fumbling for something, anything, and found Logan putting his hand into Remus’ grasp.  
“Final thing?” Logan asked firmly.  
“…Hand.”  
Remus was now focussed on Logan, and was marvelling at how long Logan was bearing to touch him for. He did Logan a favour, and let go of his hand for him.  
“…Sorry,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to find anywhere to look other than Logic.  
“No need for apologies,” Logan said briskly, before his tone shifted into something more mellow. “I understand, Remus, that we have not gotten along in the past. Especially since we decided to split ourselves into factions.”  
Remus winced at the word _split,_ but Logan didn’t really seem to notice that.  
“But…” Logan sighed. “You are clearly distressed. We discussed some important things with Roman that most likely would not have come to light without you, so, thank you.”  
“Happy to be of service,” Remus muttered, not looking at Logan.  
Logan sat down properly next to the Duke, fumbling for his words.  
“As much as I’m thanking you,” he added, “I’m trying to be… compassionate. You were _both_ distressed. And with some of the issues now brought to light, I was wondering if there was anything we could help you with?”  
Remus jolted. He could only stare at Logan, in confusion and shock.  
‘What?” he stammered. “Who?”  
“Us,” Logan said lamely. “Patton, Virgil, Roman and I. I tracked down Deceit earlier and he was happy for this to go forward.”  
The shock was turning into horror.  
“No thanks,” Remus said without thinking about it too hard.   
Then he thought about it a bit, and decided he wasn’t going to change his answer.

Logan’s face dropped a little, like he wasn’t really expecting Remus to say no. Remus looked at him with tired eyes, but over Logan’s shoulder, he could see the still-open sketchbook on the ground behind Logic.  
Logan didn’t miss how Remus’ face twisted in panic, and he managed to scoot out of the way in time for Remus to go scrambling past him, practically throwing himself at his crime and slamming the sketchbook closed.

Remus stared down at his hand, pressed flat against the cover of the book, and his vision phased in and out, and Remus was frantically blinking to clear the blur.  
“Don’t make me,” he wheezed out. “Don’t make me confront this.”  
“What is it?” Logan asked softly, coming closer and putting a gentle hand on Remus’ shoulder, and Remus _just_ managed to not completely melt into the touch. “What can we help you with?”  
“Nothing,” Remus shot back, sitting back and hugging the sketchbook tightly to his chest. “Logan… I appreciate it, you fucking nerd, I really do. It’s weird to know you’ve been thinking of me, willingly. But…”  
Remus swallowed hard.  
“This isn’t an issue,” he said. “It’s a dumb phase I’m doing my best to move through, because if it lingers, it’s going to throw more and more things off. I don’t want to break things, actually, especially not Thomas. So. Just, there’s nothing for you to _do.”_  
“May I ask what sort of ‘phase’ this might be?” Logan queried, and he was wringing his tie. “Are you sure we cannot help?”  
“It’s an illogical one,” Remus offered, hoping that was enough to dissuade Logan.  
“Virgil has been talking to Patton,” Logan said, fixing Remus with a _Look_ that Remus couldn’t understand. “And he has struck up a deal with Patton that if you need someone to talk to about emotions, Patton will help you with that.”  
Now, Remus wasn’t proud of what he did.  
He flinched.   
He scooted back, he gasped for air, he didn’t even hear Logan call his name as a great rumble of thunder cut through the air, and his stomach turned with that _awful_ emotion.  
“I-I,” he stammered, and Logan’s eyes were wide, realising he’d just triggered something and he was rushing out apologises, breathing exercises, but they were lost over the roar of falling rain as it came down in one huge sheet.  
They were both soaked instantly, and Logan nearly didn’t see Remus get to his feet. Remus pointed to the ground with a shaking hand and an umbrella appeared in the dirt for Logan, before he turned tail and ran.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus, surprisingly, has a shower.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ Remus was choking on his own breath as he stumbled back into the cold of the subconscious, tracking mud over the carpet, trying to wipe his still-tingling lips clean of the forbidden kiss, and was caught off by the clearing of a throat.  
He looked up to see Deceit, sitting and waiting, a strained smile on his face and concern in his mismatched eyes.  
“Hi,” Dee offered, and Remus curled in on himself, and tried to smile back.  
He went to say something, but alas, no sound came out.  
“Did…” Deceit was studying Remus’ face closely. “Did Logan talk to you?”  
Remus shuddered, pushing his sopping wet hair out of his face.  
“Yeah,” he said. “I… Look, it doesn’t matter.”  
“It does,” Deceit argued.  
Remus saw that spark of hope in Deceit’s eye, and well, he was ruining enough things as it was, so why not crush one more thing?  
“I turned Logan down,” he said bluntly.   
Deceit’s face didn’t change, but the spark was gone.   
“Was that wise?”  
“I don’t _do_ ‘wise’,” Remus snarked. “I do me. And right now, ‘doing me’ involves _only_ me.”  
“You’re upset with me,” Deceit stated, in a way that was half a question, half a fact.  
Remus stared at the floor, before crossing his arms and lifting his gaze to Deceit.  
“Yeah,” he replied, nodding slowly. “I guess I am.”  
Deceit looked down at his hands.  
“It’s… I didn’t want you to suffer alone.”  
“Now I have to suffer _and_ avoid people,” Remus grumbled. “That’s a lot of mental power I don’t have. I _told_ you, I’m working it out by myself!”  
Deceit shook his head, rising to his feet.  
“You don’t have to do either of these things,” he said, and Remus recoiled at just how _broken_ Deceit sounded. “Remus… We’ve been invited to dinner upstairs.”  
Remus stared. He stared blankly as his brain tried to catch up.   
Upstairs with Roman, who he last saw sobbing in his arms. Upstairs with Virgil, who he last saw full of regret because of him. Upstairs with Logan, who he’d just soaked through to the bone and then ran away from.  
Upstairs with Patton, who hated him.  
“I think it best if we go,” Deceit said, and he crossed the room carefully to take Remus’ hand. “There’s still one person to talk to who might be able to help you.”  
Patton.  
“No,” Remus declared, pulling his hand back sharply.  
“It’s not for another two hours,” Deceit said, and he didn’t seemed miffed at Remus’ answer. “Go get changed out of those wet clothes, and think about it, okay? It’ll help, I promise.”

Remus trudged off to his room, still tracking mud, and closed the door firmly behind him. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t fun at all. He was supposed to be able to make any situation _fun_ because he had no limits. So why couldn’t he now?  
Remus stripped out of his wet clothes, and honestly? He considered just… going to bed.  
But the look on Deceit’s face had been enough to convince him. He was getting sick, so _very_ sick, of letting Deceit down.  
Remus felt that wave of nasty emotion hit him, and he found himself trudging over to his mirror to evaluate himself.   
He stared at himself, with running makeup and hair clinging to his scalp, and mud everywhere, and then…  
It all seemed to hit him in a rush.  
He stunk. He felt greasy and filthy and he used to _enjoy_ that, but something had changed. Something about being dirty didn’t feel fun or enjoyable anymore. Because he wasn’t stupid. He was aware of every little hesitation he’d seen this past week, of people trying to _will_ themselves into touching him. Roman had taken a deep breath before he’d hugged him, so he didn’t have to smell him.   
Logan had been hesitated to lay his hand on Remus’ shoulder.  
And Deceit, well, Deceit was good at hiding it. It helped that he wore gloves. Remus wondered if he was the reason why.  
And Patton would never touch him if he was this filthy. And not the fun kind of filthy. Though, Patton probably wouldn’t like that either.  
Remus watched his reflection reach up and drag his fingers under his eyes, and looked down at the smudged purple there, and running eyeliner, and felt himself just deflate.  
There was only one thing that might save him now, thought it was certainly an extreme for him.

After a full hour in the bathroom, Remus emerged; wrapped in a towel and for the first time in what felt like _years,_ squeaky clean. His hair was not greasy and clumpy, and he was almost looking forward to drying it, to see how soft it’d be. He tingled uncomfortably - near painfully - all over, from scrubbing so hard with the soap, watching mud and old grime disappear down the drain.  
He found a not-foul deodorant, and used it how it was supposed to be used (and he took a nibble, because he couldn’t really help himself). He dressed himself in the cleanest version of his outfit he could find, and spent a solid twelve minutes cleaning the mud and dirt out of the crevices of his boots. He dried and styled his hair, marvelling at how it looked, and made sure his moustache was as pristine as the rest of him. He redid his makeup, but this time carefully, conventionally.   
He needed to be presentable.  
He needed to be… _good._  
And that was a challenge for him, but one he was going to rise to face. He could do that. For Deceit.  
So when Deceit was knocking on his door telling him it was time, Remus cracked the anxiety out of his knuckles and crossed the room. He hesitated for a moment. A moment of truth.   
Would he do it? Would he go through with this plan? He could barricade himself in here and never set foot outside again. That was also a valid plan.   
But Deceit knocked again, gentle and scared, and Remus regretted even considering it.  
He opened the door, and smiled as best he could.  
“Hey,” he said.  
Deceit stared at him. Startled, definitely. Shocked, certainly. The thing he didn’t expect was there was something in Deceit’s eyes that seemed… unsettled. ‘Shook’, as Logan might tell him.   
“What?” Remus teased, leaning on the doorframe. “You aren’t going to tell me I scrub up nicely?”  
Dee was almost out of his element, before he smoothed it back down under a smile.  
“You’ve certainly made an effort,” he noted, and he offered Remus his arm, bowing at the waist like a Victorian gentleman.  
Remus decided to take it as a compliment, ignoring the question under it, and looped his arm through Deceit’s with a jolly laugh.   
“Well,” he declared. “Onwards and upwards!”

They emerged into the Light Side common space still arm in arm, and every step had Remus’ grip tightening until he was practically hanging onto Deceit for dear life.   
They made it to the bottom of the stairs, and Remus froze at the sight of everyone, who hadn’t noticed their arrival yet, and he tugged Deceit in close.  
“If I can’t do this,” he whispered, and he tried to ignore how his voice was shaking. “Can we go home?”  
Deceit patted the hand Remus had clinging to his arm.  
“Of course,” he said. And Remus could almost say he could hear a drop of melancholy in Deceit’s voice, but he wasn’t sure _why.  
_ But he took Deceit at his word, and let the side lead him towards the dinner table, towards the others.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus struggles through the worst trial of all: socialising at the dinner table. He and Patton have their first, proper conversation, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this be the chapter where the title starts to make sense ig lmao

If Remus was asked to describe what he thought hell might be right now, he might’ve said that it was this very moment in time. He’d been in all number of horrible situations, usually of his own concoction, but _this_ was a new kind of fresh hell he hadn’t ever really wanted or expected to put himself through.  
Socialising.  
Socialising with a bunch of people who he’d terrorised, hurt, and abandoned.  
Virgil wouldn’t meet his eyes, but every time Remus looked down, he could feel the cold stare of Anxiety prickling his skin. Roman sat next to him, their knees pressed against each other, and honestly, the touch was super grounding. Remus was sure he’d’ve either completely fallen apart, or flat-out bolted from the table without Roman’s knee comfortably digging a little into his leg. Deceit sat on his other side, and occasionally, Remus would go fumbling for Deceit’s hand under the table, which Deceit always relinquished to him immediately. From where he sat at the end of the table, Logan sat next to Deceit, and Virgil next to Roman, neither of them noticing the little acts of maintenance that were keeping Remus sane.  
And at the head of the table, directly opposite Remus, was Patton.  
Patton, who’d cooked. Patton, who looked just as uncomfortable as Remus felt. Patton, who was still offering Remus a brave little smile of affirmation every so often.  
Remus’ stomach was turning so much he couldn’t even eat. And he was unwilling to try in front of people. He’d been told he ate very poorly, very messily, very… wrong. And Patton didn’t need to see that. And after a while, Deceit nudged him under the table and made him negotiate a knife and fork, which was so _so_ so hard. How do people use those things?  
Remus could only fumble so long before that emotion he wasn’t fond of turned his gut, and his cheeks turned red, and he could only put the cutlery down with a mumbled excuse.  
He didn’t understand what he was feeling.

People tried to make small talk with him, but Remus had to admit, he was pretty out of it. It wasn’t until after the meal, where the plates had been cleared away and people were getting up from the table did Remus even realise things were happening.   
“Remus?” came a soft voice, “can I talk to you?”  
Remus’ head shot up to see Patton. _Patton_ , standing over him, a hesitant smile on his face, hand hovering over his shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he was _allowed_ to touch him.  
Remus swallowed hard, working his jaw.   
“Uh,” he said. “I… guess?”  
He didn’t want to talk about it. But he wanted Patton to be near him. To _want_ to be near him.

This was a dangerous game.

Deceit gave his hand a final squeeze under the table, and left the table without a word.  
Remus choked down a panicked cry, because no, he’d said before he didn’t want Deceit to hear this. But he didn’t want to be left alone with Patton.   
Or more importantly, left alone with Patton and his thoughts. Because his experience in the Imagination earlier just proved that Remus didn’t have the control over himself he thought he did.  
Roman glanced between Remus and Patton, and he leaned over to Remus, voice still loud enough to be heard by both, and whispered, “do you want me to stay?”

There was relief in Patton’s eyes. Remus couldn’t miss it.   
But it was nothing against the relief that was bubbling over in his own lungs, and Remus just nodded, vigorous and soundless.   
He grasped under the table for Roman’s hand, and Roman took it. And he could see surprise in Roman’s eyes, probably at how clean Remus’ skin was now.   
Patton took Deceit’s chair, and clasped his hands in his lap, smiling as bravely as he could.   
“I’ve been told,” he started hesitantly, “that you might need some help with, uh, emotional stuff. A-and, well, that’s my job! So…”   
Patton looked away for a moment, before turning a soft smile on Remus, the same one he’d captured between the pages of his sketchbook, the same one that Remus had never expected to receive yet had craved so badly.  
“Can I help you, Remus?” Patton said.  
 _Patton_ said.  
Patton wanted to _help_ him.  
Patton wanted to help _him._

Remus tried to remember how to breathe, and tried to fight down a flush, and he felt like he was going to throw up with the wave of that horrible emotion that hit him, which had him clutching Roman’s hand so tight that if he let go he felt like he’d melt.  
He felt like Patton was Dorothy with a bucket of water, and he was the Wicked Witch of the West. Not too bad a comparison, honestly.  
And then Remus realised he’d been staring at the table blankly this whole time instead of replying, and in a rush, he fumbled out a sound that could’ve been a yes or a no.  
“Remus,” Patton said softly, causing Remus’ head to snap up.  
He was the Duke! He was Intrusive Thoughts! He should be saying weird shit that’d make everyone in this room run for the hills! What was _wrong_ with him?  
“Can I touch you?” Patton said, and Remus’ blush couldn’t be fought.  
Blushing. Blushing and flushing like a schoolboy. He could probably bend someone over and rail them on this here table without a hint of red on his cheeks, but this gentle question just _shattered_ Remus.  
“No,” he said, before he could think. Because Patton wouldn’t want that. He might’ve scrubbed himself hard from head to toe with three different soaps but he was sure there was still something dirty about him that Patton would hate. He was protecting him. Protecting everyone. It wasn’t Remus’ job, but he just… didn’t want to hurt these people anymore.  
“Let me explain,” Patton put his hands on the table, palms down, and fixed Remus with his warm brown eyes. “Because I _am_ emotions, I can feel you guys’ emotions too, if I touch you. Just like, a hand or a shoulder or something, bare skin works best, honestly. It’s really helpful, especially if you don’t know _what_ you’re feeling.”  
Patton glanced over his shoulder, before he leant in close.  
“It’s been really helpful for Logan,” he whispered, and there was an earnestness in Patton’s voice that had Remus not doubting him for a second. “He was really struggling to identify his emotions, and that would lead to more frustration. I can help you, Remus, and I… I want to. But I won’t do anything you don’t let me, okay?”  
Remus wanted to spill his guts. Wanted to talk about his touch starvation and his loneliness and this awful feeling and his _crush_ but no, no, _no._  
Wait.  
Patton might know what the bad feeling was!   
But if he could feel that, what else could he feel?

Remus glanced at Roman for support, and was met with soft eyes.  
“I think it might be a good idea,” Roman nodded.  
“One right brain to another,” Patton said cheerfully, and extended his hand.  
Remus stared at it.  
This could change everything.  
“You don’t want to touch me,” Remus retorted unthinkingly.   
“Who told you that?” Patton blinked in sad confusion. “I… I will admit, Remus. I would find you scary sometimes. And you’re… unpredictable. But I can see you’ve made an effort to be here, and I can also see you don’t want to be here either.”  
Remus shrunk in on himself.  
“I’ll break it,” he warned quietly.  
“Break what?” Patton half-laughed, face twisting in concerned confusion.  
“…Everything.”  
Remus looked away, before hoarsely adding, “it’s what I _do_.”  
Patton shook his head.   
“Oh no,” he murmured. “Oh no, no, no. You… you sound like Virgil.”  
That shocked a laugh out of Remus, one that drew glances from the two people sitting around him.  
“I’m being serious,” Patton said, almost sounding a little insulted. “When he came to us, he was convinced there was nothing positive about his abilities, no benefit to what he was.”  
“It was something we were always trying to forget, over in our corner,” Remus snarked, looking into his lap. “But it’s more effective some days than others. But look at us! Virgil’s needed. Deceit’s far more vital than y’all want to let on. But me?”  
Remus laughed again.  
“I’m just an offshoot of him,” he said to Patton, jerking his thumb at Roman. “I’m where all the bad gets funnelled. That’s literally what I was made for. So yeah. I was made to break everything.”  
He glanced at Roman and sighed.   
“It’s usually fun,” he admitted, kicking back in his seat and ignoring Patton’s outstretched hand. “But recently…?”  
“Something’s changed,” Patton hummed, trying to evaluate him.  
If Remus jumped any harder, he might’ve made it to the moon.  
“I…”  
He couldn’t say.  
“Please,” Patton begged. “Let me help you.”  
“You don’t want to,” Remus scooted his chair back a little. “Trust me, Patty-cake.”  
“Patton,” Roman warned in a low voice.  
“You don’t have to _hurt_ yourself,” Patton declared, and it was _loud,_ loud enough to draw everyone’s attention, and from across the room, Remus saw Deceit, silently begging him to go along with it.  
But!  
But…   
But what?  
Remus stared at Patton’s outstretched hand.  
“What emotions do you know?” he asked, glancing between the hand and Patton’s face.  
“All of them,” Patton confirmed, and he started listing some off. “Joy, love, lust, shock, fear, anger, regret, shame, pride, jealousy, envy, anxiety, depression, sadness, excitement, and more; the lot.”  
He sounded so fragile as he said _depression_ , and Remus stored that fact away.  
But…  
He’d said he could know love. And that wasn’t… it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take.  
“I can’t,” Remus stammered.  
“You can,” Patton countered firmly, eyes wide, and he stretched out his hand a little further. “Remus, do you trust me?”  
Remus met his eyes.   
They were wide and warm and focussed on _him,_ …and for the first time, they weren’t _afraid._

Remus’ hand was hovering over Patton’s before he’d even realised he’d moved. His hand was shaking. There was so much he could lose.  
“I do…” he whispered, voice shaking and petering out. He wasn’t supposed to say yes. He wasn’t supposed to go along. He wasn’t supposed to be here!  
A wave of that horrible emotion hit him, twisting his stomach, and Remus choked on his own breath.  
“Just… don’t look too hard,” he said quietly. “Please. But… there’s this thing. This _emotion,_ a-and I don’t know what it is, but it…”   
He choked on his breath again.  
“It makes me feel sick,” he wheezed. “And I hate it. It twists everything up and feels awful. If you can tell me what it is?”  
“Of course,” Patton said softly, and his gaze fell to their hands, which almost met.  
 _Take the plunge, Remus.  
_ He hissed out a breath, squeezed his eyes closed, and practically slammed his hand into Patton’s grasp before he could doubt himself.

He felt Patton’s hand curl around his, and the touch was so light, but so _warm_ , and a surge of what Remus was beginning to realise was _love_ raced through him. It almost teased a smile out of him.  
And _then.  
_ Then, the horrible, smothering, choking, twisting, sick and awful emotion started to build up, from the space behind his eyes downwards, turning his stomach on itself, curling his toes, stopping his breath in his throat, forcing tears down his face, knotting his mind in loops, making Remus gasp and flinch back, because… just, no! He _couldn’t feel that love!_ He wasn’t _allowed it!  
_ And he couldn’t keep himself ripping his hand back, not even realising how Patton had flinched, how Patton had dropped his hand like a hot potato with a loud gasp and tears in his eyes, and he couldn’t keep himself from basically vaulting over the table and booking it, thundering footsteps leaving a hive of shock and concern behind him.  
Everyone looked at Patton, who was staring after Remus with confusion on his face, tears openly streaming down his cheeks.  
“I…” he gasped. “I’ve never…”  
“What’s the verdict?” Deceit all but demanded as he quickly rose from his chair to follow his friend. “Please, Patton. What can I do to help him?”  
Patton turned his wide eyes on Deceit, and the lost expression on Patton’s face put Deceit’s heart in his throat.  
“Shame,” Patton whispered, blinking tears away. “I-I’ve never felt such _shame_ in someone before.”  
Deceit’s face fell. Then it twisted in confusion.  
“Shame?” he echoed, incredulous. “I… No, you don’t understand. He’s _Remus._ There’s no way he can feel _shame.”_  
Patton was staring at his hands, shaking his head.   
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he mumbled. “I-it’s clear as day. There’s love there, something _really_ strong, that he asked me to ignore, and then just… shame. The strongest sense of shame I’ve felt since…”  
Patton laughed a little, and moved on.   
“I don’t fully know what’s wrong,” he said. “But he…”  
Deceit was already moving towards the stairs.  
“Thank you for your help,” he said, curt but sad. “I’ll reach out again if I need it?”  
It ended as a question. It was more of a beg.  
“Of course,” Patton said, rising to his feet. “You know where to find me.”  
Deceit nodded to everyone once, brisk and formal, before thundering up the stairs after the Duke.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus breaks down. Deceit loves him anyway.

Remus could hardly breathe. He staggered down the hallway, bumping into the walls as he went, and he ended up falling down the stairs just a little bit as he tried to get back to the safety of the ‘dark’ side common room.  
As he crumpled in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, more his knees hurting than anything actually damaged, he could only double over, arms wrapped around his belly, and cry.  
Goddamn it, he’d been doing a lot of that recently.  
There was the pattering of feet, and then hands were on his shoulders, a body settling next to him.  
“Remus,” said a voice.  
Remus turned and blindly snuggled into the warmth, producing the most ugly sounding noises as he tried to choke back his tears.  
Hesitantly, an arm went around his shoulders, and he could hear someone speaking to him, trying to say something to him.  
It took a long time for the voice to filter in as words.  
It took even longer for those words to filter in as Deceit’s.  
And after he realised Deceit was giving him breathing instructions, Remus followed, managing to latch on and calm himself, taking several minutes to finally cycle back to himself, before just… slumping against his dear friend with an exhausted huff.  
Then he caught himself, and sat back up.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and scrambled to his feet, hauling Deceit along with him.  
“It’s okay,” Deceit said. “Honestly.”  
Remus tried to smile, though it came out as a grimace.

“Let’s sit,” Deceit said, tugging him by the lacy sleeve towards the couch. “You look exhausted.”  
“I want to go to bed,” Remus mumbled.  
“Can we talk first?” Deceit inquired, and he took Remus’ hand in his own, and his brow was set in concern. “Please? Then I promise you can go to bed.”  
“You don’t need to run after me all the time,” Remus grumbled, more in avoidance, and he half-heartedly tried to tug his hand away. “I’m not your kid.”  
Deceit froze for a second, and Remus felt a stab of regret.  
“No,” Deceit murmured. “I suppose you’re not.”  
Deceit let his hand fall to his side, and stared at the floor for a moment, before just moving to sit on the couch by himself.  
“…Deceit, it wasn’t supposed to be-”  
“You can go to bed, Remus,” Deceit cut him off. “You’re right. I’m not your _mother_ or such. I don’t control you. Do what you please.”  
Remus wrung his hands.  
“Is this a ploy?” he found himself asking, and regretted it as Deceit flinched again. “I _know_ you don’t do the manipulation thing on me, but like… is this you’re getting tired of me being flighty? Because, like, understandable! But if you want to… if you want me… to…”  
Remus rubbed his face and tried to keep his voice reined in.  
“If you think I’ve done something wrong, and you want me to fix it, or stop being a little bitch about it, _tell me.”_  
Deceit didn’t turn and look at him.  
“You haven’t done a thing wrong,” he said, and he sounded… sad. Then, after a beat, he added; “…Patton told me what he felt when he touched you.”  
Remus rubbed his arms.  
“I’m sorry,” he said.  
“No,” Deceit rose from the couch and came around to face him, and he ended up perching on top of the backrest instead. “You don’t _need_ to be sorry for anything, Remus. I only wish you’d said something to me.”  
“I… couldn’t!” Remus shook his head. “I don’t know what Patton told you, but I’m trying to move past it, or whatever, I swear!”  
_Love, something really strong.  
Shame, the strongest sense of shame I’ve felt.  
_Deceit looked up at Remus, and the look on his face just made Remus crumple.  
“Whatever you’re feeling,” Deceit started, low and soft, and Remus’ head shot up at the declaration, “you’re _allowed_ to feel it. You’re allowed to feel love, Remus.”  
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew who it was,” Remus said before he could think.  
Deceit’s face fell.  
“Do you want to know what Patton says the emotion is?” he asked, because all he could do was offer this information in lieu of comfort. He was Deceit. He couldn’t _comfort_ people. That wasn’t in his skillset, was it?  
Remus sniffled a little, and nodded silently.  
Deceit looked at the floor.  
He blinked slowly.  
“Shame.”  
Remus stared at him with owlish, disbelieving eyes. But Deceit could see the gears turning between his ears.  
“Patton said that you had, and I quote, ‘the strongest sense of shame he’d felt’,” Deceit recited, and looked up to see Remus slowly backing away.  
“Shame,” the Duke echoed quietly. “… _shame.”_  
His back hit the wall, and he froze there.  
“B-but…” he laughed a little. “I’m… I’m the _Duke._ I’m Intrusive Thoughts! I… I don’t have _shame.”_  
“It sounds to me,” Deceit said softly, “if I may try to deduce, that you have a love that is so strong, a love you feel you shouldn’t have, that you’re reacting with shame. You’re ashamed of your emotions. …Does that sound right?”

Remus was staring into space, and without warning, his knees gave way.  
Deceit was there, making sure Remus was alright as he stared off into space, and tears began to leak down his face.  
“…If I stop loving him, it’ll be fine,” Remus finally whispered as he felt Deceit’s gloved hands dab his face dry. “If I stop loving him, I won’t feel _ashamed_. So… I just… stop. Right?”  
Deceit recoiled at the idea.  
“Remus,” he breathed, before he managed to school his expression back into something more comforting. “Remus, trust me when I say that forcing yourself to stop loving _hurts_. Hurts you in more ways than you can imagine.”  
Remus finally shifted his broken gaze onto Deceit, and Deceit felt his façade crack.  
“…I used to have… what I suppose would be counted as a ‘crush’ on someone,” he said softly. “I won’t tell you who, because it doesn’t matter now. But… Remus, it hurt for so long, because I loved him so closely and so dearly, but I knew he hated the ground I walked on. He hated me down to the last slimy scale. So I managed to do… _something._ It was like I somehow divorced myself from my own feelings…”  
Deceit shook his head sadly.  
“And I’ve never _felt_ to that same degree again,” he whispered.  
Remus bit his lip and tried to keep the tears away.  
“Whatever part of us makes us capable of loving,” Deceit continued, choking on his words, “I… _broke_ mine. I’ve never been able to look at anyone that way again.”  
“Maybe you haven’t found the right person,” Remus tried to pitch in.  
“Maybe,” Deceit echoed sadly. “But… I feel ghosts of it, sometimes. It’s the same emotion. It’s _love._ And it’s not for him, usually. And I think it could the start of something similar, but it never grows as strong, _feels_ as strongly as it did back then. It’s like putting your hand in a flame and only feeling a tickle. A lot was happening at the time, Remus, and I managed to sever that part of my purpose. I-I _can’t_ love.”  
“You can,” Remus countered, sounding so very broken. “B-because… you love _me,_ don’t you? You wouldn’t’ve put up with me for this long otherwise…”  
Deceit took Remus’ hand between his own shaking ones.  
“I… think so,” he said bravely. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like anymore, but I know you’re my family, Remus. I know I can’t ever _feel_ as strongly as you do, or Virgil can, or Roman, and definitely not Patton. I…”  
“I’m sorry I said the comment earlier,” Remus mumbled. “About not being your kid.”  
“It’s okay,” Deceit gave a limp shrug. “You’re right.”  
Remus shook his head.  
“You’re like my dad,” he whispered, soft and lonely. “And I don’t want to let you down.”  
“You could _never_ let me down,” Deceit whispered fiercely, squeezing Remus’ hand tightly. “Remus, I think I do love you. I’m so proud of you. And I _see_ you. You’re hurting in the same way I used to, and I _can’t_ watch you close yourself off like I did. I can’t see you _break_ yourself like I did.”  
Remus’ lip was wobbling.  
“I won’t judge you, no matter what you do or do not tell me,” Deceit murmured, holding Remus’ gaze steadily. “I swear it on my life.”  
Remus looked down, and the tears spilled over.  
“I want to tell you,” he whispered. “I told Roman a few days ago, but if I tell you, you’ll _know._ If I tell you, that makes it _real._ I-if I tell you, I can’t… I can’t shut it down. It’s so strong it hurts, Dee.”  
“We can work through it,” Deceit vowed solemnly. “Together.”  
“It’s so _wrong,”_ Remus protested, voice cracking.  
“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Deceit replied, catching Remus by the cheek and tilting his head up to meet Deceit’s eyeline. “And it shouldn’t stop you now.”  
“You don’t understand!” Remus shook his head so violently it freed him of Deceit’s light grasp. “It’s the _exact_ thing that will never happen! It’s the _exact_ thing I’m not allowed to do, o-or supposed to do! It’s the _last thing_ I’m supposed to want! But a-all the _fucking same,_ I-”  
Remus sucked a huge breath, before wailing in the most broken voice Deceit had ever heard:  
_“I fell in love with Patton!”_

And Remus buried his face in his hands, sobbing openly, rawly, brokenly, and Deceit could only stare as his heart _wrenched_ with a heartache so familiar he could almost swear it was ten years ago, but oh. Oh, he understood now. He understood completely. He understood, far more intimately than Remus might ever know.  
It was all he could do to throw his arms around Remus and hold him close, hold him tight, and try not to cry for him too hard.  
Remus froze at the very _concept_ of Deceit wanting to touch him so openly, but his emotional side took control, and he just collapsed into the embrace, hugging him back, and feeling wave after wave of what he now knew as _shame_ roll over him, turning his stomach so hard he felt like he was going to be sick. He tried to form words; apologies, excuses, the works. They all never made it past his lips, cut off by ugly sobs.  
“Oh, I know, I know,” Deceit hummed, voice thick. “Remus, you’re so brave. Thank you for telling me.”  
“I-I…” Remus tried. “I-I’m sorry f-for letting you down.”  
“You’ve done no such thing,” Deceit reprimanded firmly. “No such thing at all. It’s not something you can control. I still love you dearly.”  
Deceit rested his chin in Remus’ clean hair.  
“That’s who you cleaned up for, hm?” he hummed.  
“N-no one would want to touch me otherwise, least of all him,” Remus mumbled, trying to wipe his face on the taffeta of his own jacket. “I stunk and felt bad and I…”  
“You’d never let that bother you before.”  
“I… didn’t notice before,” Remus hiccupped. “But Roman gets hugs… kinda, and it’s because he’s clean and friendly and peaceful and-”  
“If you think your brother is _peaceful_ ,” Deceit cut in in an attempt to try and cheer Remus up, “I don’t know if we know the same Roman.”  
“Roman’s _perfect!”_ Remus snapped, voice so loud it rang around the room, and Deceit physically reeled back at the force.  
Remus shied away as he realised, and before Deceit could stop him, gave himself a solid slap across the cheek.  
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It’s all so wrong. I don’t know what I am anymore. I just… I just…”  
“I know,” Deceit murmured, opening his arms again and trying to get Remus to come back for a hug. “Love does weird things to you.”  
“It’s awful,” Remus gasped. “I hate it. I want it to stop.”  
Deceit flinched. But then…  
“Maybe…” Deceit had a glint in his eye, the glint of a conspirator.  
“No!” Remus scrabbled to his feet, glaring daggers. “Don’t _meddle._ Don’t fake anything. Don’t undermine anything. Don’t break them, Dee. We don’t need to _both_ do it.”  
Deceit looked up at Remus, and the Duke flinched at how broken and _tired_ the side looked.  
“Okay,” Deceit said. “I won’t.”  
Remus felt a stab of guilt – and he was getting used to feeling stabs of guilt by now, and he sighed heavily.  
“Just…” he rubbed his face tiredly. “Go to bed. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Dee.”  
“Goodnight, Remus,” said Deceit, helping him to his feet.  
Remus started to lumber from the room.

“Remus?”  
Remus turned to look at his friend.  
Deceit smiled.  
“Thank you for trusting me. I know it wasn’t easy.”  
Remus smiled back.  
“I trust you with my life,” he shrugged. “Thanks, Dee. Sleep good, okay?”  
And with that, Remus left, and shut himself in his room for the night, and tried not to think too hard about what had just gone down.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #board game night! some bad roleplay happens.
> 
> *pokes deceit with a stick* do you like roman do you do you???? you doooo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sfhjksdjsd yall are too nice with your comment oh gosh!! i didnt expect to have such a nice reception oh heck.  
> im gonna post a bunch of chapters obnoxiously frequently until i run out of stockpile.
> 
> also Dee's hinted crush.... is not Virgil, but i did like that speculation. I must be more subtle than i realised! skjlkjgdfg

\---

Actually?  
Remus felt better.

For like, a week, Remus’ mood improved. He found himself gravitating back to Deceit, because it was just so nice to be around his best friend without the need for pretences.  
It felt so good to have Deceit implicitly know and understand him, like usual. To not have to explain himself.  
Roman visited, which was _weird._  
“I never come and see you,” he offered in explanation as they stared at him descending the stairs. “I thought… I should change that. Be a less-shitty brother. Y’know?”  
Remus laughed at that. Deceit held onto his silence for a single, stunned, extra second, before he laughed too. But _that_ , oh that was suspicious. Deceit was _never_ thrown off his rhythm.  
So why was Roman smiling at him, looking away and ducking his head like it was a smile that wasn’t supposed to _be_ , throwing Deceit off?  
Deceit caught Remus side-eyeing him, and quickly turned the human side of his face away from the twins.  
 _Oh._ Remus couldn’t help but smirk. _Ohoho!  
_ Roman made it to the bottom of the stairs, clasping his hands, and he bowed deeply to the two of them, like the dramatic princely _sod_ he was, and Remus rolled his eyes.  
“So,” Roman laughed at himself a little as he straightened upright. “What do you guys do for fun?”  
Remus and Deceit looked at each other.  
“Uh,” Remus said.  
“Well,” Deceit stammered.  
“Oh my god,” Roman shook his head. “This is so sad.”  
“Play Despacito!” Remus jumped in.  
Deceit put his head in his hands as Roman started singing.  
“I forgot you could speak Spanish,” he grumbled.  
“Ah, es ist nich zu schlecht!” Remus crowed, slinging his arm around Deceit’s shoulders. “Besides! We could… oh my god!”  
Deceit looked at him. Then the spark of realisation hit him too.  
“Oh my god,” he whispered back.  
“What?” Roman inquired.  
“ _Boardgame night!”_ Remus hollered, and he scrambled away to retrieve his favourite board games.

They started on Monopoly, a classic. And it ended very quickly, quicker than any game of Monopoly Roman had ever played. Remus wasn’t phased, because Deceit was just… _very, very_ good at outthinking him. And Deceit was taking the last of Roman’s money out of his hands as Roman landed on his four-house property.  
“You’re supposed to upgrade to hotels!” Roman whined. “You took up all the houses!”  
“That’s the point,” Deceit cooed back, patting Roman on the cheek soothingly. “I had a _monopoly_ on the houses. If I buy them all out, no one else can advance, and no one else can get hotels, because you need houses to get them. It’s not about playing valiantly. It’s capitalism, dear.”  
Roman folded his arms sulkily, but Remus could tell he wasn’t really mad.  
“You’re better at this than Logan,” he declared. “Or at least, Logan gives us a fighting chance. You’re _ruthless.”_  
“Virgil used to give me a run for my money,” Deceit declared as he stacked the cards away. “I had to learn.”  
“Well, he must’ve lost his touch,” Roman shrugged.  
“Challenge him,” Remus advised. “Make it personal, and the true Monopoly beast will come out. It’s devastating.”  
“I’ll admit,” Deceit nodded in agreement with Remus’ statement as he continued, “I think I could’ve done that faster, but I’m out of practice.”  
“You can’t really play boardgames with two people,” Remus pouted, wrapping his arms around his knees.  
Roman’s shoulders sagged, just a little. Something on his face flickered, something that nearly looked like guilt.  
“You should play with us sometime,” he put forward, causing the two dark sides’ heads to snap towards him. “I’d _love_ to see you go head-to-head with Logan. And it always becomes more hellish with more people.”  
“Especially when ‘more people’ includes a wildcard like Remus,” Deceit rolled his eyes, reaching over and gently flicking Remus’ ear in a purely non-malicious way.  
Remus laughed at that, batting Deceit’s hand away.  
“What can I say?” he shrugged. “I’ll do anything for the train stations!”  
“You gave him the last _green property_ he needed!” Roman exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “You gave away _Vine Street!”_  
“For trains!” Remus defended. “A worthy cause!”  
“You bankrupted me!”  
“I did _not._ You should’ve played smarter.”  
“Ah!” Roman fell backwards dramatically, back of the hand at his forehead. “Betrayed by my own kin!”  
“Just you wait!” Remus crowed with a glint in his eye. “We’re playing _Cluedo_ next!”

You’d’ve thought that Deceit would’ve won Cluedo. You might’ve thought that it was more up his street. But nothing could’ve prepared Roman for _Remus.  
_ Remus was a Cluedo _God._  
But they still played round after round, because even if Remus kept winning, there was another, excellent reason.  
The roleplaying.  
“Oh, surely, Miss Scarlett!” Remus scoffed, his accent English and his tone dripping with distaste, “you wouldn’t go as far to accuse moi? Moi? Of murdering my dear friend? Why, I’ve known him since our army days, a-and I loved him most dearly!”  
“Ah _would_ go as far, Reverend Green!” Roman cried back in a high, soft, Southern-accented voice, staring ‘Reverend Green’ down as he raised his chin. “For it’s clear, sir. It was _you!_ In the conservatory, with the candlestick!”  
Then they both turned to Deceit, who was fumbling through his cards and trying to hide his look of mild distress, before he found one, and showed it to Roman.  
“Right,” Roman mumbled, crossing out an option on his piece of paper, before slipping back into character. “It seems, _Reverend,_ that you’re safe… for the moment.”  
Remus sniffed, shaking his hair back, before turning to Deceit, who was rolling dice and moving his little figurine around the board.  
“What about you, Colonel Mustard?”  
Deceit squinted at the board, then at his paper, then at the dice, before he had to recount his steps.  
“Give me a second,” he mumbled, tapping his figurine against the board with each number, before successfully ending up in the ballroom. “Uh…”  
He squinted at his paper again, before biting out a curse.  
“Uh,” he fumbled again. “I don’t want to be in this room, do I?”  
Remus openly laughed at him.  
Deceit squinted at him.  
“Fine,” he huffed, and he put on his character voice as well, the low and gruff ‘what-ho’ voice of a colonel. “Reverend Green, old boy! I do accuse _you!_ In this here ballroom!”  
“You dare?!” Remus exclaimed in horror as Roman moved his figurine across the board with a cackle. “I _need_ to be over the other side of the board!”  
“That sounds like a _you_ problem, old boy,” Deceit rumbled out. “I accuse you of murder, my boy, like the slimy bastard you always were beneath that collar of yours! I say you killed my dear friend Samson-”  
“Samson?” Roman queried, out of character.  
“Yes,” Deceit flailed. “Samson McDougal, t-the mansion owner and my old friend! We went to school together, a-and were… roommates! In the Academy. And you! Reverend Green! Killed him! In cold blood, here in the ballroom, with the… uh…” Deceit fumbled for his paper again, before pointing at Remus imperiously. “With the dagger!”  
Remus promptly showed him a card.  
“ _Not_ with the dagger!” Deceit exclaimed.  
“You aren’t supposed to _say!”_ Remus shouted. “Geez, Dee!”  
“I don’t work well under pressure!” Deceit shouted back, as Roman took note of this new information with a giggle.  
Remus scoffed, and rolled the dice, and started to make his slow way back towards the room he wanted to be in.  
Where Roman already was.  
Remus passed the dice, but Roman drew himself upright.  
“Ah have mah final accusation to make!” he declared proudly.  
“No!” Remus howled.  
“Nice!” Deceit pumped his fist.  
“For you, Reverend Green!” Roman called over the shouts. “ _You_ have turned on one of your oldest friends, and you killed him! In this here conservatory, with…”  
Everyone leaned in as Roman paused.  
“The _lead pipe!”_  
And Roman slowly reached for the envelope in the centre, the others holding their breath, and he tugged the cards out, and…  
howled with laughter, crying out in success, and he threw the cards down on the board.  
“I knew it!” Roman hollered. “I won!”  
Deceit clapped as Remus glowered.  
“I _would’ve_ won if Dee hadn’t fucked me over!” he tried to protest.  
“Ah, but he did!” Roman wiggled his eyebrows.  
“Consider it payback for the utilities,” Deceit said passively, stretching and yawning.  
“From _Monopoly?”_ Remus demanded. “That was literally three hours ago!”  
“What can I say? I’m a petty bitch,” Deceit hummed, ripping a laugh out of Roman.  
A pretty laugh, which Remus watched Deceit’s frosty expression melt into something far softer for a heartbeat.  
But just a heartbeat. And he blinked back to himself, avoiding meeting Remus’ eyes.   
“Also… three hours?” Roman repeated in surprise, and he went fumbling in a fold of his coat for a pocketwatch. “Shit, I said I’d be back for dinner.”

“Did you say you were coming down here?” Deceit asked as they all went to pack the game up. “With us?”  
Roman paused, and tried to smile.  
“Yeah,” he said. “I said I was checking on Remus. Which wasn’t a lie!”  
“Were they worried?”  
Remus and Roman both blinked at the question.  
“A-about…?” Roman queried, and he was starting to squirm.  
“You,” Deceit was drumming his fingers. “With us.”  
Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Roman cut in.  
“No,” he declared. “They were not worried about me being here. Logan thought it was a good idea. Virgil didn’t argue. Patton encouraged me. And anyway, what does that matter? I wanted to be here. I…”  
Roman rubbed his arms, and Remus could _hear_ the kinds of thoughts that was bouncing around in his brother’s head. And they were clashing with Deceit’s most discordantly.  
“It’s okay,” Remus jumped in. “Stop it, both of you. I can hear you guys festering.”  
They both looked at him, and Remus smiled as widely as he dared.  
“Thank you,” he said, and Roman looked away with a guilty face.  
“You shouldn’t be thanking me for this,” he mumbled, rising to his feet. “I should be doing this anyway, because we’re brothers.”  
Remus shrugged.  
“You’re under no obligation to like me just because we’re related,” he stated idly, heaving himself to his feet as well. “But… I appreciate the effort.”  
Roman suddenly lurched forward and threw his arms around Remus.  
Roman felt Remus tense up, frozen in shock.  
“Uh,” Remus squeaked out. Roman’s warmth blotted out any attempt of coherent thought.  
Roman squeezed him reassuringly, before pulling away.  
“Busy tomorrow?” Roman asked.  
“No,” Remus answered before he could think.  
“You’re welcome to pop in on me,” Roman offered. “Both of you. We could brainstorm some videos and stories and stuff. I… always appreciate the company.”  
Remus’ face broke into a gentle smile.  
“We’ll take you up on that,” he said, looping his arm through Deceit’s and wiggling his eyebrows at his friend. “Now piss off.”

“Remus!” Deceit chided, lightly slapping Remus’ arm as Roman laughed again, and Roman was off with a spring in his step, waving at them over his shoulder as he practically bounded up the stairs.  
Remus side-eyed Deceit as subtly as he could, and tried to hold back his smirk at the sight of the tiny, tender smile on Deceit’s face.  
Then Deceit realised Remus was looking at him, and he turned the human side of his face away from the duke.  
“Don’t,” he said softly.  
“C’mon!” Remus cooed. “It’s as obvious as the sky is blue, Dee! You _liiiiiike_ him!”  
Deceit batted his shoulder, but the forced smile hid a level of distress that Remus couldn’t help but notice.  
“Don’t,” he repeated softly. “Please understand, Remus. These… _feelings…_ are new, and I have what one might call ‘baggage’ in regard to these sorts of things. Just… don’t.”  
“But there are feelings,” Remus noted aptly, and _that_ twisted Deceit’s face in surprise. “You said you didn’t have those, but it’s either that or you’re doing a very convincing Prince Hans impression.”  
The comparison drew a bark of laughter out of Deceit, and Remus watched his friend rub his face tiredly.  
“…I suppose you may be right,” he mused quietly. “It’s… it’s not as strong as it used to be, by far, but…”  
And then Deceit pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart. And Remus almost went to bully him for the smile that was on his face, but there was such a genuine glint in Deceit’s eye that Remus simply closed his mouth and wrapped an arm around his friend.  
“So,” he teased, and stuck out his tongue. “I get to set you up with my brother.”  
“No!”  
“Oh _yes!”_  
“Oh _no_ you don’t!”  
“Oooooh _yes I do!”_  
“Oh no! No! No, n- Remus, where are you going?!”  
“I’m going to go plan your wedding! Au Reservoir!”  
 _“Remus!”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> board night 2, electric boogaloo. Most of the sides do their best to get along. Remus can't handle it. Logan keeps surprisingly calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is the chapter that has blood in it. Remus has a panic attack and makes some... bad, not-lasting, decisions.

Despite his pretty good mood and his normal habits, Remus found himself avoiding the Imagination like the plague. After his last run-in, he wasn’t about to risk it.  
He reckoned that if what happened last time with that Patton Drawing happened again, he’d probably explode. Maybe literally. It was a bit up in the air, the direct results of it.  
So he stuck to Deceit and Roman like glue, trying to keep his mind off the ache in his chest. But he couldn’t keep his hands off his pencils or his pencils out of his sketchbook, or his mind off Patton.

Roman kept his word and had them up for boardgames. The game of Monopoly was long and ruthless, coming down to a painstakingly close Logan versus Deceit showdown that Deceit _won_ by the most _infinitesimal_ increment.  
“Ha!” Remus crowed, punching the air. “Way to go, Dee!”  
“You did it,” Roman said, thoroughly bewildered. “You actually beat Logan.”  
Deceit adjusted his cuffs and smiled enigmatically at Logan, who rolled his eyes, but smiled back with a shake of his head.  
“Close game,” he acknowledged.  
“He probably cheated,” Virgil snarked, already moving to pack up the board.  
Remus watched Deceit falter at that, before Deceit swiftly moved to adjusting (fiddling with) his gloves.   
“We will have to have a rematch,” he said smoothly. “Best of three?”  
“You’re on,” Logan immediately accepted. “I warn you; I do not go down without a fight.”  
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Deceit smiled again. “Neither do I.”  
Virgil snorted at that, and whatever emotion Deceit was wrestling with nearly made it onto his face. Remus almost went to say something, but he had no idea what he _could_ say.  
 _Stop it,_ he wanted to snap. _Stop hurting us! We haven’t done anything to you!_  
“Well, I’ll brush up on my Monopoly strategy for next time, then!” Patton said cheerfully, smiling brilliantly at Deceit, and at _Remus_. “I want to put up a fight!”  
Remus watched Patton’s smile turn on Virgil, and it went from a welcome to a challenge in the face of Virgil’s confused and on-edge stare.  
Patton was giving them space to _be here._  
Remus wanted to thank him, hug him, _kiss him-  
_ Remus stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking over the stack of property cards with his knee as went.  
“What the fuck?!” Virgil growled at him.  
It was an accident. It really was. But that wasn’t an answer Virgil was going to accept from him.  
“I’m going to go take a shit,” Remus blabbed on autopilot, before powerwalking his way up the stairs.   
As soon as he was out of sight, Remus _booked it_ for the bathroom.

He barely got the door closed in time before his chest started to heave, and he locked the door and stumbled across the room, not really sure where he was going but just wanting to end up somewhere different.   
He sort of fell over the edge of the bathtub, and decided this was as good a place to sit as any. He curled up on himself, knees up to his chin, burying his face in his trousers and tried not to think too hard.  
Which, as always, for him was nigh on impossible.  
Oh he wanted to hold Patton and hug Patton and cuddle him on cold nights and fuck Patton and _kiss_ Patton and braid little colourful beads into his hair and bake with Patton and _have_ Patton and did he mention the kissing thing? He was pretty sure he mentioned the kissing thing. Because ever since that paper construct had done it, Remus found himself obsessing over what the real thing would be like. Hot or just a little warm? Soft or deep? Tender or passionate? Reserved or unhinged? Loving or detached?  
Remus groaned in the back of his throat and tore at his hair, his hair which he’d washed and dried and combed and tried to make look good – well all it took was a few misplaced thoughts and hard work went down the drain, huh? Is this how the others felt when he showed up on a normal day? God, he was so _sorry._ He should stop doing it. He should just stop showing up. He should just stop existing, shouldn’t he? Oh, Thomas had no use for him, Thomas didn’t like him, Thomas ignored him, and if his centre decided he wasn’t worth time then he really mustn’t be.   
He couldn’t breathe.  
God, he’d been through this already. Another one?

Downstairs, Virgil’s head snapped towards the stairs, and he was half out of his seat before he realised what he was doing.  
Everyone looked at him.  
“What’s up?” Patton asked, concerned.  
Virgil swallowed. It wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t like he cared.  
Remus’ face, with the tears and the tired eyes, filled his mind’s eye, and Virgil all but swore at himself out loud. It shouldn’t matter whether he liked the bastard or not. No one deserved a panic attack.  
“It’s Remus,” Virgil said, and that was all he got around to saying before Deceit was out of his seat proper and heading up the stairs to go help his friend.

The knocking didn’t help. It just made Remus curl in on himself and shy away. He couldn’t hear who it was trying to speak to him, and he didn’t want them anyway. He deserved to wallow in his own metaphorical shit, and probably literal as well, like the pig they thought he was.  
Well, pigs were naturally clean animals, who only lived in filth because that’s what everyone gave them.  
Maybe that metaphor was a little too on the nose. Remus gasped for air.  
“Remus, love, open the door.”  
A whine tore itself from the back of his throat, but Remus didn’t move. Couldn’t move. He growled at himself, and turned and hit his head on the edge of the tub.  
Oh _fuck._ It hurt. It hurt so much.  
…Good.  
He did it again.  
“Remus!” Deceit shouted. “I can hear you! Stop it! Stop hurting yourself! Please, open the door!”  
“Stand back,” said another voice, and then there was a mighty _crash_ as someone kicked the lock in. The door slammed open, hitting the shower door and shattering the glass in a loud _smash_ and Remus _screamed_ , flinching back, hands over his head, pressing against his forehead where he smacked his head against the edge of the tub and the blood that was there, slicking his palm and his head was spinning, ears were ringing, and someone touched him lightly and Remus nearly leapt out of his own skin.  
Someone tried to touch him again and Remus _screamed._  
It was long and harsh and painful and discordant and it hurt his throat but he couldn’t keep the sound down any longer. He screamed about the pain and the love and the shame and the hatred and about Deceit and Virgil and Roman and _Patton_ and he was going to faint, wasn’t he?   
“Give him space,” someone ordered, and there were shuffling footsteps, and it seemed the room was empty before someone crossed the tiles to kneel by the tub.  
“Your grace,” he said. “I have a towel here. Would you like something around your shoulders?”  
The words took a bit to filter in. The scream… petered out, leaving Remus coughing and gasping and he lifted his head to see Logan waiting there, patient and non-judgemental, and Remus had to blink the blood out of his eyes.  
Logan slowly held up the towel again.  
“It’s nice and soft, and has a good weight to it,” Logan continued to speak soothingly. “Honestly, it is one of my go-to’s when I need comfort. Would you like it?”  
Remus stared, trying to understand the offer, before slowly nodding.  
“Thank you, your grace,” Logan said softly. “I promise I will not touch you.”  
And Logan didn’t. He merely stood low over Remus, carefully slinging the nice heavy soft towel (and _oh_ it was really nice and weighty and soft and already Remus was feeling more human) around his shoulders, before settling back and reaching for the next thing. Remus watched him curiously.   
Logan held up what seemed to be a wad of clean toilet paper.  
“This is for your forehead,” he continued, voice still dead even and calm. “To help staunch the bleeding.”  
“You don’t hate me for bleeding?” Remus asked quietly.  
“No,” Logan replied. “I am only worried, and would like to help you stop bleeding. Bleeding means it hurts.”  
Couldn’t argue with that. Remus extended his hand and let Logan place the wad in his hand, before hesitantly pressing it against his brand-new wound.  
“Why do you call me ‘your grace?’” Remus suddenly asked, eyes trained on Logan as he shifted in the bathtub. “Roman’s told me I’m not very graceful.”  
“You are a duke, are you not?” Logan shrugged. “That is the honorific title that comes with being a duke. Would you like me to stop?”  
“No,” Remus hummed, almost too quiet to be heard. “It’s… nice.”  
“Very well, your grace,” Logan sort-of bowed at the waist, more of just tilting his head, but it sent a ripple of something pleased through Remus, right to his core, and he almost smiled.   
They sat there in silence for a moment, but it wasn’t a loaded or scary silence. Remus rested his cheek on his knee and watched Logan. And Logan watched him, not mean or wanting anything. Just watched him.  
There were tears beginning to quietly roll down his cheeks, but they were probably just from pain, and not actually from emotions.  
Remus went to say something, but choked on his breath. He fumbled for air, and he _knew_ there was a breathing exercise thing, something Virgil taught him years ago that he should remember, but the numbers just weren’t filtering in. As Remus began to gasp, he glanced pleadingly at Logan, who scrunched his nose, trying to remember, before something clicked, and he started to recite for him.  
“Breathe in for four counts, your grace.”  
Remus obeyed. Four was the first one.  
“Good. Hold for seven. Do you need me to count it?”  
Seven. Remus nodded, and Logan started to recite the numbers for him, even and steady.   
As soon as they reached seven, Logan wet his lips and continued.  
“Out for eight, now. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”  
Remus obeyed, closing his eyes and pressing the toilet paper bandage harder against his head, letting the pain centre him.  
“Your grace, please, don’t hurt yourself any more,” Logan said sharply, and Logan’s cold fingers brushed his as he leant over and pulled the wad away. Remus whimpered at that, but there was a fresh wad that Logan pressed to his head steadily, and kept there himself. Remus found himself grabbing Logan’s wrist. He was going to pull Logan’s hand away, but… oh the contact was so nice. He couldn’t bring himself to. So he just held on, held on for dear life as Logan didn’t pull away or flinch, he just kept talking, kept cycling through numbers and prompting Remus to breathe in and hold and breathe out at the right times, and…  
Remus blinked again, blinking away those last tears of pain and he became acutely aware of the sticky blood streaked all down his face and Logan was lifting the soaked wad of toilet paper and disposing of it, fetching another one.  
“It’s okay,” Remus said, and he half stood, swinging his legs out of the tub and standing over Logan, offering him a hand up. “…It heals fast.”  
“It does not mean you should do it in in the first place,” Logan said softly, and took Remus’ offered hand. “How are you feeling, your grace?”  
Remus looked away.   
“Better,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry, Logan.”  
Logan shook his head. “We were all worried, but sometimes an emotional response is not what one needs. Are you ready to go back out there?”  
“No,” Remus said immediately.  
“Fair enough,” Logan nodded, and Remus noted with a detached fascination that his blood was on Logan’s hands, literally. “Do you want to go home with Deceit?”  
Remus flinched at the thought of confronting Deceit like this. His face was still coated with a sheet of his own blood, sticky and cloying.  
“I don’t want him to see me,” he whispered and he took a step back and drew the nice towel around his shoulders tighter. “I don’t want him to see me like this. I’ll make him sad. I already did.”  
There was a hitching in someone’s breath just outside the doorway, out of his sight, and Remus’ shoulders’ sagged.   
“I’m not stupid,” he mumbled. “I might look it and act it, but I’m _not._ ”  
“They’re hovering because they’re worried about you.”  
“They should be worried for themselves,” Remus spat. “Don’t you know who I am?”  
“Duke Remus Creativity Sanders,” Logan stated.   
“I’m Intrusive Thoughts,” Remus countered, and a horrible, horrible grin spread across his face. His teeth sharpened, his eyes grew wild and started to glow and crackle with some terrible energy. Logan took a subconscious step back. “I’m what will never be addressed and will always be hated, Logan. I’m what keeps you all up at night. I’m what freaks you out to the depts of your soul and makes you uncomfortable in your own head. _I’m_ the worst thing in the mindscape. You should be worried for your safety, Logan. You should be running away, Logan. Why are you standing so close to me, Logan? I could rip your throat out with my teeth right now. Would you like that?”  
Logan swallowed.   
“Fortunately for me,” he said thickly, “we both know that what you do doesn’t _last.”_  
“Ah,” Remus laughed, shrill and hollow. “I might not last. But I _always_ comes back! Again and again,” he was giggling, and he took a step towards Logan and Logan took a step back, and Remus couldn’t _stop_ himself from continuing his unsettling advance, and Logan seemed to lose grip on his logic and obey his most primal sense of fear. “Again and again, until you’re up at night wondering when will I come back, when will I leave? When will I finally leave you alone? But guess what?”  
They were nearly out the door now.  
“I’m _never_ going to leave. I’m our little _curse_ , aren’t I? As deranged and deadly as you are unfeeling, aren’t I? You’ll _never_ be safe from me. So go. Go run and hide, Logan. Hide and wonder how long it’ll take me to find you.”  
Remus hissed, an ungodly and inhuman sound, and lurched forward with his teeth bared, faking towards Logan’s throat.  
Logan’s back thumped against the wall of the hallway.  
Someone grabbed him by the back of his collar, and it nearly choked him. Choked him right out of this weird stupor his was in, and Remus let this person drag him backwards, let himself stumble away. The towel fell from his shoulders, and he nearly tripped over it.  
The person who had grabbed him dragged him real close, and he saw the whites of Virgil’s eyes with how close their faces ended up being.  
“What the _fuck_ are you doing?!” Virgil growled at him, and the tempest tongue slipped out, raising Remus’ hackles even more. “Logan _helped_ you and the first thing you do is threaten him? You were going to attack him like some fucking animal?”  
Remus scrunched up his face and tried to fend of tears. No, no, _no_ , this was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to bash his head in in the bathtub, in an easy to clean location, and no one was supposed to miss him. They were supposed to move on, relieved he wasn’t around. He wasn’t supposed to be here, _he wasn’t supposed to be here!  
_ “Virgil!” someone ordered. “That’s enough.”

Virgil’s hand disappeared, and Remus was shoved away, and that was okay, he deserved it. Shove him into the doorframe, Virgil. Snap his neck. Take him out of the picture like you want to.  
Remus put his hands over his hears and sank to his knees, bowing over.  
“Do it,” he begged. “Please.”  
“Do… what?”  
“You have a sword don’t you?” he screamed, not looking up. “Do it!”  
There was an ugly, empty moment of silence.  
“Oh, Remus, love,” Deceit said, and it was Deceit, there was no one else it could be. “No, Remus, no, please, no.”  
Someone knelt before him. He assumed it was Deceit. He snapped his head up and bared his teeth and growled as loudly as he could but the realisation that it _wasn’t Deceit_ ripped right through him as he met _Patton’s_ eyes, wide and afraid but _determined_ and not willing to back away.  
All the fight left him.  
Patton’s hand rested on his shoulder. It didn’t move or flinch.  
Remus doubled over and started to bawl.

The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Patton carefully pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around Remus. Remus shuddered, head to toe, and couldn’t find it in himself to fight it. God, he wanted this, he’d _wanted this for so long_ and Patton was touching him, _hugging him!_ But he was sobbing, ugly and unwanted, into Patton’s shirt, and he knew this was just pity. Patton didn’t really give a shit about him. But he was the caring-about-people, cutesy, emotional side and he was expected to like everyone, and he was just hugging Remus out of pity.  
That didn’t make the novelty of the embrace any less real. It just made it way more bittersweet.  
“Oh, no,” Patton said softly, resting his chin in Remus’ hair. “I’m not doing this out of pity, your grace.”  
Remus flinched, full-bodied and shaking. All of a sudden, he was scared.  
“I’m sorry,” Patton hummed, and it sounded like he was choking back his own tears. “Remus, I’m so, so, _so_ goddamned sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry,” Remus shot back without hesitation. “I deserve this. I deserve it all.”  
“You _don’t,”_ Patton told him, and he jolted as Remus started laughing.  
The laughter rose. The laughter rose from dull chuckles into shrill cackles until Remus could hardly breathe.   
“I get it!” he hooted. “I get it now! This is just me in the Imagination again.”  
“W-what?”  
“I must’ve wandered in in my sleep, right? I’ve done that before. A-and I must’ve taken the sketchbook with me,” he continued to ramble, and he sat up and took Patton’s head in his own hands, turning it this way and that, examining him. “Though I must say, you came out a lot more realistic than last time.”  
“…Remus,” Patton said softly, “I don’t understand, kiddo.”  
“That’s okay,” Remus laughed, and he patted Patton’s cheek and rose to his feet. “I get it now. I’m going to go wake up now.”  
“Remus,” someone said, but Remus was already walking away, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling something far too jaunty for the experience he’d just gone through. He’d just go to his room, cry about it, have some nightmares and maybe tell Deceit about it in the morning.  
“Remus!”  
Something in that tone froze him. He felt a hand on the small of his back, and it was his brother, he realised, as Roman’s face, pinched with concern came into this sightline.   
“Remus,” he said, “I want to show you something. Come with me?”  
Remus went to pull away, but was stopped for two reasons.  
One, Roman’s hand was really warm on his back.  
Two, the look on this Roman’s face was really, _really_ genuine and convincing.  
So he shrugged and let Roman lead him, lead him past the assorted motley crew of constructs, and it was weird for Remus’ brain to be so _in depth_ , like, this is a long-con, but okay.   
But Roman led him down the corridor and around the corner, and let Remus step past, helped him past, before crossing over to…  
Remus took a step back, not willing to believe what he saw.  
“No,” he said.  
Roman slowly opened his doors to the Imagination, the big hulking red-and-gold things they were, showing off the inside, grey and inactive, and slowly turned on his heel.  
“No,” Remus repeated. “That’s not… This isn’t…”  
“Re,” Roman said softly. “It’s okay. Let it go, Re.”  
Remus wanted to respond. But the world swam before his eyes, and the rush of white noise in his ears silenced whatever he was going to say, and then  
Remus fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 keeps moving my at-the-end chapter notes on me?? so im just gonna yeet this message up here hi kjlsdfgkdjfgdfg hope yall have a good day and if you're reading this at 2am, get some sleep dear <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman tries to keep it together. It still falls apart hopelessly at the seams.

Roman swore loudly, trying to catch him. Fortunately, Deceit had been tailing them, and Remus practically fell straight into his waiting arms.  
“I don’t understand,” Deceit said gruffly, and it seemed he was forcing himself to stay calm. “What about his sketchbook?”  
“Don’t,” Roman said softly, glancing at the others behind Deceit. He knew Deceit knew, Remus had told him that he’d told Deceit, but Remus would _kill_ them if the others found out. Especially like _this_.  
“Have you seen what’s in it?” Deceit pressed, trying to gather Remus in his arms properly but he just wasn’t very strong. Roman stepped forward to take Remus off him, sweeping him up and cradling him gently in his arms, and he left Deceit mop some of the blood off Remus’ face with a handkerchief.  
Roman bit his tongue.  
“Roman,” Deceit snapped. “Are you or aren’t you going to help your brother?”  
“I want to help him!” Roman shouted back. “But I’m not going to _out_ him. He’d never forgive me.”  
Deceit flinched, and seemed to then remember that they had company, company who was all watching in confusion.  
“If it helps us help him,” Logan started, “then why not?”  
“His fuckin’ book, the same one he brought with him?” Virgil asked. “He had it tucked under his arm or up against his chest the whole time.”  
“It’s probably a comfort thing,” Roman said softly. “I wouldn’t… don’t…”   
He was hugging Remus to his chest. He didn’t know what to say, how to say it, how much he should or could say.   
Virgil gave him a hard look, and turned and started to head downstairs.  
The silence was palpable.  
“Let’s go lay Remus down on the couch,” Logan suggested calmly. “I would like to bandage his head.”

They all headed downstairs, Roman going first and carefully lying his brother down, and Deceit was close behind with blankets, and Logan pulled up a chair with a first aid kit and got to work.  
Roman heard scuffling, and saw Patton finishing packing up the boardgame, his movements slow and deliberate and his face pleasantly blank. Roman could see the confusion and turmoil in his eyes from here, though.  
Virgil stooped to pick something up, and Roman’s eye was drawn to the movement. He watched Virgil open a book, and react in some form of disgusted confusion.  
Then, it _clicked.  
_ Virgil was-  
That was Remus’-  
 _Fuck._

Roman wasn’t thinking. He vaulted over the couch, jumped over the coffee table, and stopped just shy of tackling Virgil to get the sketchbook out of Virgil’s hands.  
Virgil sensed him coming, and ducked the swipe impeccably, flipping more and more pages with a building expression of confliction on his face as he backed away.  
“What the fuck?” he half-laughed, but there was something underneath that, some unplaceable emotion that coloured his tone. “What the fuck is this, Princey? Why is there so much Patton in it?”  
“Give it back,” Roman said through gritted teeth.  
“It’s not _yours,”_ Virgil snapped, and he froze at the sight of himself amidst the pages, and the flicker of something in his eyes told Roman he recognised that moment in time that had been captured with Remus’ pencils. “What the fuck.”  
“It’s not yours either!” Roman made another lunge for it but Virgil avoided him again, curse his fight-or-flight senses. “This is an infringement of privacy!”  
“Remus doesn’t keep secrets,” Virgil replied quietly, but his own voice gave away just how much he didn’t believe that. “Pat.”  
He tossed the book to Patton, who barely caught it, and Roman shouted frantically.  
Deceit was out of his seat, beginning to put together what it must _be_ , but Patton had already opened it.  
He blinked as his own face stared back at him.  
“What…?”  
Roman paused in front of him, and held his hand out.   
“Please,” he said, and his voice cracked.   
Patton looked up at him, before looking back down to the book.  
He turned the page.  
“Patton!” Roman exclaimed, too shocked to make any move to confiscate it.   
“What? It’s got me in it. I should be allowed to see.”  
“Oh yeah, and because you might be mentioned in someone’s diary means you’re allowed to read it,” Roman barked back, and he yelped as someone grabbed him by his collar and jerked him back, cutting off his airflow for a moment.  
“Why the fuck are you two being so aggressive?” Virgil growled, forcing them to give Patton space to keep turning pages. “It’s just a book.”  
“Why am _I_ being aggressive?” Deceit laughed, but it was clearly considerably more hysterical than the side probably would’ve liked to have shown. “You’re the one who’s choked two people tonight, and violated someone’s privacy. Just because it’s _Remus_ doesn’t mean you can disregard him! Though I _do_ realise that you of all people might need the reminder.”  
Virgil hissed.  
“What are you insinuating?” he growled, taking an aggressive step forward.  
Deceit refused to take the bait. He didn’t step forward, he didn’t try to meet Virgil, he didn’t hiss and snap and attack.   
But he _did_ break.  
“Just because you _left,”_ he spat out, “doesn’t give you the right to treat us like _shit.”_

Virgil flinched, full-bodied and heart-wrenching, but Deceit didn’t want to cave.  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, words tumbling out, sour and foul but he just couldn’t stop when he started. “I never have, and surely you remember how Remus adores you? Look, leaving was your decision, even if we don’t understand it. Maybe we never will. But we won’t ever _hurt_ you, Vir-…” Deceit couldn’t bring himself to say it. Virgil had never actually told _them_ his name. They’d heard it down the grapevine after the fact. “Anxiety, we won’t hurt you. We care too much about you to do that.”  
Virgil’s eyes were wide, and he was shrinking away.  
“You’re lying,” he whispered. “You’re _lying!”_  
“I’m _not!_ ” Deceit screamed, before he clapped his hands over his own mouth. There were tears. He hid his eyes behind his gloves. “Just because my name is Deceit doesn’t mean I’m _lying_ all the time! Stop misunderstanding me! Stop it! Stop _hurting us!”_  
Virgil took a series of steps back, breathing getting rougher by the moment.  
Deceit’s eyes were wide.   
He… _he_ was hurting Virgil. This was his panic attack cue.  
He slammed his hands over his own mouth and turned away. He couldn’t even think about looking at Virgil. He should’ve known. Nothing healthy or helpful ever happened when Deceit spoke his mind. Nothing useful came from Deceit telling the truth.  
Virgil took a few more steps back and basically fell on his ass, landing next to Patton, who let Virgil lean against him, putting an arm around him and kissing his forehead.  
Virgil’s breathing calmed. Patton’s didn’t.  
Patton turned back to the sketchbook, and looked over to where Roman was still stuck, still feeling his throat from where his high collar had choked him at Virgil’s yank, still trying to ground his thoughts because they were screaming _danger danger pain pain pain_ at him and Roman shouldn’t feel in _danger_ here, but Patton’s question yanked him back into the moment almost as viciously as Virgil had.  
“What does this _mean?”_  
Patton held up the sketchbook to Roman, and he recognised it instantly. It was one of the ones Remus had been drawing on the day Roman found out. It had started out as a half-formed sketch, mostly just Patton’s eyes and a soft smile, but Remus had been returning to it, it seemed. It was almost a photo, with how realistic it was. Fully coloured and delicately lined, it was _beautiful.  
_ Patton was crying.  
“What does it _mean,_ Roman?” he asked again, and his hands were shaking.   
“I…” Roman couldn’t drop his hands from his collar, like he still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t about to choke. “I can’t say.”  
“You can,” Patton said. “You know.”  
“I promised I wouldn’t tell.”  
Patton turned the book back around and flicked through the pages quickly.   
“It’s almost all me, Roman,” he said thickly. “Don’t I deserve to know why?”  
“Remus deserves to be able to tell you, if he is ever going to be brave enough,” Roman said with the tiniest shake of his head.  
Patton stared at the pages, something whirring in the space between his ears, before he looked up suddenly.  
Roman could see in Patton’s eyes that something had _clicked.  
_ He silently apologised to Remus. He couldn’t’ve fucked this up more if he’d tried.  
“Oh,” Patton said softly, the book falling from his hands, and it scattered the boardpieces again and made Virgil jolt but Patton was too busy staring up at Roman with wide eyes. “The love, a-and the shame when I touched him, he’s so flighty around me, the drawings. He… he _likes_ me, doesn’t he?”

This should’ve been a wonderful moment. It should’ve been a beautiful heartbeat where you could add soaring violins underneath and Remus should be awake and holding Patton in his arms and they should be waltzing under the moonlight and confessing their love and kissing and all those romantic tropes that Roman was now realising he had hoped would _happen_ to Remus.  
Instead he was passed out on the couch with Logan mopping up his blood, and Patton was shaking, on the verge of a panic attack he’d stolen from Virgil, looking up at Roman with the question in his eyes.  
Roman dropped his head. He was just so _bad_ at keeping secrets. He was never there how or when Remus needed him.  
Would Remus understand he did his best? He hoped so.   
He wouldn’t blame Remus if the Duke didn’t want to speak to him again after this.  
So much for rebuilding their relationship.  
Patton wordlessly closed the book and held it back out to him. Roman took it. Too little too late. He could’ve prevented this. He could’ve avoided this whole reveal if he hadn’t frozen up. He wanted to say that he didn’t know why the choking thing was tripping him up but he knew exactly why and he wasn’t going to fucking say it.  
He slowly crossed the room and held it out to Deceit.  
“I’m sorry,” he croaked out.  
“It’s not your fault,” Deceit whispered, taking it and tucking it under his arm. He didn’t open it. He was the only one who didn’t.   
Well, only one bar Logan, who hadn’t even spoken yet this encounter.   
Logan, who was simply wordlessly packing away the first aid kit, eyes flicking constantly to Remus’ limp face.   
“I think,” he said quietly, and his voice was surprisingly hoarse, and his tone enough to draw everyone’s eyes to him. “That we should all turn in for the night, before anyone does anything else they will regret.”  
Virgil rose to his feet, and he paused to help Patton up. As soon as Patton let go of his hand, Virgil immediately hurried away upstairs, glancing almost fearfully at Deceit as he went, like he was making sure that he wasn’t following him or going to say anything more.  
Deceit made sure not to meet Virgil’s eyes, and let Virgil leave.  
Patton rubbed his arms, shot a guilty glance at Remus, and at Deceit, and at Roman, before he opened his mouth.  
“Do you…? Um, can I… like,” he stammered, rubbing his face. “God, I-I’m so sorry. I…”  
“Just go to bed,” Deceit said softly. “We’ll… figure this out in the morning.”  
Patton choked on whatever he was going to say next, before biting his lip and just… giving up. He cast one more look at the motley crew before him, before sighing deeply and trudging up the stairs.

Roman, Logan and Deceit all stared each other down.   
Finally, the tears Roman had been denying slipped down his cheeks, and it took so much effort to stay on his feet all of a sudden. Deceit must’ve noticed, because he stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Roman, steadying him, grounding him.  
“Are you okay, your highness?” Deceit murmured, and Roman gasped at the touch, the wonderful burning touch, and it was around his chest and not his neck, and he couldn’t help but slump against Deceit and melt there. The use of the honorific tingled something warm in his chest. He could see why Remus liked the ‘your grace’ deal.   
“Mm,” he hummed. “Don’t let go. Just don’t touch my neck.”  
He expected Deceit to ask why. He never asked the others this because he knew they’d ask why. But for some reason he felt like he could trust Deceit with this. Maybe it was because Remus trusted him. That was enough for Roman.  
“Okay,” Deceit said, and he let Roman bury his head in the crook of Deceit’s neck. They stood there, swaying a little. “You coped very well.”  
“I didn’t,” Roman shuddered, gasping for air. “I wasn’t enough to save Remus… his privacy or whatever. Y’know?”  
“Remus was always terrible at keeping secrets,” Deceit hummed quietly. “It was going to break one way or another.”  
“He was doing so well,” Roman shook his head, trying not to get his tears in Deceit’s clothing and failing miserably.   
“He… really wasn’t,” Deceit whispered, and his voice cracked enough for Roman to know this was genuine. “Oh, he was breaking at the seams, Roman. I’m so worried if he’s going to snap. How are we going to break this to him?”  
“I think you should sleep on it,” Logan piped up suddenly, and he was reapplying Remus’ bandage, carefully not looking at them. “I think morning will bring much-needed clairvoyance on the subject.”  
“I want to stay with him,” Deceit and Roman said at the same time.  
They glanced at each other.  
“No,” Logan said. “Trust me on this one. Please, go sleep. I assure you Remus will be fine. I do not wish to have another argument over the Duke tonight.”  
That seemed to be the right words to end the conversation with. Deceit’s shoulders sagged and Roman turned away at that. Logan winced, and rubbed his neck.  
“Please,” he said, and his voice was gentle and calm, as it always was when dealing with anything Remus-related. “I promise you that it will be okay.”  
“Are you sure?” Roman said, and he sounded oh so small.   
“I am positive,” Logan replied firmly. “I’m just going to check up on a last couple things for Remus so that he’ll be comfortable. Goodnight Deceit, Roman.”  
Deceit took Roman’s hand, recognising that despite what paternal instinct was rattling around in his skull, Logan was _right_ , and lead him away carefully, up the stairs.

They got to the landing, looking at all the bedroom doors, and they paused outside of Roman’s. Deceit was staring at the next set of stairs, the ones down to the “dark” side commons and bedrooms, and shuddered to himself. He was so far away if something went wrong. So far away from Remus. It was always so cold down there without him.  
It was then that he realised that Roman hadn’t let go of his hand.  
“Dee,” Roman said, so quiet, so _broken,_ and there was something fragile in the prince’s eyes.   
“What do you need?” Deceit asked, equally as quiet, equally as breakable.  
Roman sucked in a breath, and turned bright red.  
“Would you stay with me tonight?” he squeaked out, but it wasn’t just embarrassment in the set of Roman’s shoulders. If Deceit let go, it seemed the prince might break.  
If Roman let go, Deceit might just break as well.  
Deceit couldn’t even make himself say the words. He just nodded, firm and sure, and let Roman lead him into his room.   
Roman let him borrow a pair of pyjamas, and they quietly and wordlessly settled into Roman’s bed together, Roman’s back to Deceit’s chest. Roman liked the blankets tucked all the way up to his chin, and that plus Roman’s own natural warmth made Deceit feel so cosy and drowsy. He usually wasn’t _warm._ Remus was warm, and he had a way of warming up the lower area with his presence somehow that made it liveable but Deceit’s room was always so cold, and it was always so hard to fall asleep because of it. But with Roman here, with his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest, it soothed Deceit’s thrumming thoughts to a lull, and everything, at least for the time being, somehow, slipped away into soothing sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hi thank you all for the lovely comments im cry yall are so nice!!!  
> also this is the chapter where it tips over 20k words so yay!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lull in the chaos. Tomorrow certainly won't be pleasant. But for now? Logan and Remus chat.

Logan finished re-bandaging Remus’ head, and then started shifting furniture. The coffee table was closer now, and an armchair pulled up alongside the sofa (one of the ones with the footrest that kicked out). When everything was in place, Logan went up to his room and fetched a few things. Headphones, notebook and pens, laptop, tablet, a couple pillows and a couple blankets, and he ferried all this downstairs and set himself up for the night. He also made sure to put his softest pillow under Remus’ head and tuck him in properly with Logan’s own weighted blanket. He’d be okay without for a night.  
He fetched a glass of water and such for Remus when he woke up, leaving them on the coffee table, now in arms reach of the sofa. And he settled onto the armchair, tucking himself in with pillow and blanket, before pulling his laptop into his lap, sliding his headphones on, and starting to tap away.

When Remus woke up, it was dark. Not completely dark. There was a nightlight somewhere casting warm light from some corner. And it wasn’t completely silent, either. He could hear someone’s breathing.  
He stirred with a groan, slowly sitting up, and whoever was there with him stirred as well. He glanced over to see a wide-eyed and tired-looking Logan, whose face was bathed in the light of his tablet, and he started kicking in the footrest of the armchair and pulling off his headphones.  
“Hi,” Remus mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and jolting as he realised there was a bandage on his face.  
“Hello,” Logan said softly. “There’s a glass of water there for you, should you want it.”  
“Thanks,” Remus smiled softly, and he reached for it and chugged it. As he put it down, Logan was rearranging his stuff on the coffee table as well, and he saw that it wasn’t work on Logan’s screen like he expected, but…  
Remus turned his head, trying to see what was on his screen.  
“Ah,” Logan said, and it seemed he was flushing in the dark. “It’s… Good Omens. I’ve been meaning to watch it, and my laptop died twenty minutes ago.”  
“What time is it?”  
Logan dragged down the top bar on his tablet.  
“It’s 3am,” he informed him.  
“Why are you still up?” Remus asked in bewilderment.  
“I sent everyone off to bed, but wanted to make sure you were still okay,” Logan shrugged. “Head injuries are never as innocuous as they seem.”  
Remus hunched his shoulders, and mumbled an apology.  
“No apologies,” Logan said, and he sounded sad. “You are certainly not to blame for anything tonight, Remus.”  
Remus tensed.  
“You make it sound like a lot’s happened,” he half-joked.  
Logan adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.  
“Logan,” Remus whispered. “Wh… what happened?”  
Logan picked up Remus’ glass.  
“More water?”  
“Logan,” Remus said, voice guarded. “Why are you avoiding the question?”  
“I will answer your question,” Logan promised, and he looked like he’d aged ten years from the last time Remus saw him. “But… I’m going to get a glass of water. Would you like some more?”  
Remus coughed a little.  
“…Yeah. Thanks.”

Logan crossed the room, and Remus listened to him fill the glasses in the sink, before padding back across the room in socked feet. He pressed the glass into Remus’ hand and settled back down into his armchair nest, sipping at his own drink.  
Remus did the same, staring into space, before he finally turned his eyes back on Logan.  
“Logan?”  
“Mm,” Logan hummed. “I… Let me organise my thoughts, your grace. You might want to get comfortable. Not everything we discuss will be… enjoyable.”  
Remus went pale, but did as requested.  
He didn’t like the sound of this.  
But in some way, he was extremely comforted by the fact that it was Logan who was having this conversation with him. He didn’t think he could handle anything else.  
Logan sighed heavily, before just taking off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his shirt. It was then that Remus noticed that Logan wasn’t wearing his tie, or his dress shirt. He was in pyjamas and thick woolly socks. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Logan this casual before.  
Logan smiled a little at him, like he could guess what Remus was thinking.  
Then the smile dropped as Remus leant forward to put his glass on the coffee table and clear his throat.  
“Right,” Logan said, and he coughed a little into his fist.  
“Start from the beginning,” Remus advised. “A very good place to start, I’ve been told. What happened after I collapsed?”  
Whilst Logan snorted at the _Sound of Music_ reference, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
“You’re very… blasé about the whole collapsing thing,” he noted.  
“It happens!” Remus shrugged. “Semi-frequently sometimes, depending on my headspace.”  
“Hmm,” Logan acknowledged, brow crinkling with concern, and he took another sip of water, before practically cradling it in his lap.  
“But please, back on track,” Remus tried to smile. “I faint. Then?”  
Logan fiddled with the glass of water in his hands.  
“Then,” he began, voice low and gravelly. “Deceit and Roman started discussing this ‘sketchbook’ of yours that you mentioned before you fainted.”  
Logan glanced up to see Remus turn pale.  
“Oh,” Remus said. “And I had brought it with me, hadn’t I?”  
“You’d left it downstairs,” Logan confirmed, and his voice was shaking, like he was afraid to get to the point but he knew he couldn’t keep it from Remus either. “…The next thing we did was carry you downstairs, and put you on the couch. I bandaged your head whilst an… _argument_ broke out between everyone else.”  
Logan started to pick at the rim of the cup. Remus swallowed hard, and reached for his own drink again. He didn’t interrupt. He just waited for Logan to finish.  
Logan took a breath.  
“Roman asked for the sketchbook to be given straight back to him. Virgil got to it first… and looked in it.”

Remus swallowed hard.  
“Oh,” he squeaked out.  
Logan didn’t look up.  
“Roman tried to get it off him but Virgil kept it out of his grasp. He ended up passing it to Patton.”  
Remus’ hands were shaking so bad he was spilling water on himself. Instead of hyperventilating, he made himself take a nice, slow drink of water and try to calm down.  
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.  
“How… How much did Patton see?”  
Logan made himself look up.  
“Enough.”

Oops. There were the tears again. Remus tried to set the cup down and knocked it over instead. At least it was empty this time.  
“Oh,” Remus mumbled again.  
“He has joined the dots,” Logan continued softly. “That you must ‘like’ him.”  
Remus pulled the blanket up over his head and wondered if he could use it to suffocate himself or not. But honestly, the weight of the blanket over his head was… soothing. Grounding. He wasn’t panicking, or not completely.  
“Patton… seemed apologetic, mostly,” Logan said. “But I think his thought process must be a lot more complex. I’m not one to be able to accurately report on emotions, as I’m sure you can tell.”  
Remus smiled a little at that, and pulled the blanket off his head to show Logan he wasn’t angry at him.  
“So he took it well?”  
Why was _that_ what Remus was asking? Not if everyone was okay? He just wanted to save his own ass?  
Logan sort-of nodded, head tilting from side to side.  
“I don’t know, truthfully,” he shrugged. “I personally would say yes, but he was still upset over something in the situation. Though, the argument Virgil and Deceit had most likely did not help the matter. I think Patton transferred some of Virgil’s anxiety into himself as well, before Virgil went upstairs, so that might’ve influenced his reactions as well.”  
Remus rubbed his head with a groan.  
“Everything happens when you’re not there, huh?” he half-laughed. “Fuck me. Are Dee and Virgil alright?”  
Logan sighed.  
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But that will be tomorrow’s endeavour, I think. I think… a lot will come to pass in the morning.”  
“And gee, am I not looking forward to it,” Remus muttered, reaching for his pillow and cuddling it to his chest.  
Logan nodded at that.  
“Neither am I,” he admitted. “I am most likely going to have to be a mediator, and I do not know if I’m up to the task. So much as happened. I can’t think.”  
“Perhaps you should sleep,” Remus suggested. “I know… I went all weird and teeth-y on you earlier, but I wouldn’t hurt you. You should rest.”  
“I couldn’t,” Logan replied. “I did try. Do you want to sleep?”  
“No,” Remus buried his face in the pillow. “I think it’s a nightmare night, if I do.”  
Logan hummed sympathetically, before standing and rearranging his tablet on the coffee table, using the built-in stand function of the tablet’s cover.  
“Would you like to watch Good Omens with me?” he offered. “I’ve basically only just started. And we’ll go either until we fall asleep or it’s morning.”  
Remus smiled; not one of his creepy, goading smiles, but a small genuine one.  
“I’d love to,” he said. “I’ve heard David Tennant looks fucking amazing in this.”  
“He does,” Logan nodded with a snort.  
He set it up, turned up the volume and pressed play.  
As the introduction played, Logan shivered, and glanced at Remus.  
“Remus…?”  
“Yes?”  
“May… may I sit with you? As in, beside you?”  
Remus blinked at him in confusion.  
“It’s a little cold,” Logan said in quiet and embarrassed explanation. “A-and… for touch reasons.”  
Oh.  
“Of course,” Remus said softly, lifting up one part of the blanket like a toreador lifts his cape. “Get in here, nerd.”

Logan ended up with Remus’ head in his lap as the night progressed. The show was delightful, and Remus kept pointing out various bits of Crowley’s behaviour that really reminded him of Deceit.  
“And the eyes,” he added after a beat. “I’d be stupid not to point out the eyes.”  
“Of course,” Logan agreed.  
Logan couldn’t keep himself from playing with Remus’ hair. It was so soft, and the moment Logan’s fingers wound their way into his hair, Remus just melted with a subconscious contented noise from the back of his throat.  
After they got through three episodes, Remus slowly turned his head to look up at Logan.  
“Hey,” he said.  
“Hey,” Logan said back, still smoothing his hair back. “Is this okay?”  
“Yeah,” Remus smiled a little wobbly smile. “Logan?”  
“Yes, your grace?”  
Remus flushed a little at that, but he still seemed pleased with it.  
“Thank you,” he said, and Logan’s hand stuttered in its movements. “Thank you for the water and the show and for earlier. Thank you for treating me like a human. Thank you for being here and for being the one to break it to me. I don’t think anyone else could’ve done it.”  
Logan’s fingers lightly scratched at Remus’ scalp, causing his eyelids to flutter with gentle enjoyment.  
“I understand that the emotional confrontation is, while needed sometimes, not always the best plan of attack,” Logan shrugged. “And they’re going to try and fix this in the morning. I wanted to give you the best chance possible for you to actually cope. You’ve been through a lot recently, after all.”  
Remus turned back to where he could see the tablet screen, and he only hummed in response. Logan wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or not.  
“Remus… I would like to ask you something,” he said, and Remus didn’t turn back, but nodded to show he was listening. “…When Deceit and Virgil were, uh, arguing, Deceit made a comment that I am… curious about your input on. Though you need not answer this question if it makes you uncomfortable.”  
“…Okay,” Remus said. “Hit me.”  
“Deceit was saying something about the manner in which Virgil left,” Logan whispered, and he felt Remus tense beneath him. “And that you in particular, to use his words, ‘adored’ Virgil.”  
Remus covered his eyes with his hands.  
“May I ask what he meant?”  
An empty moment of silence stretched through the air between them.  
“We…” Remus finally choked out. “W-well, that’s certainly a word for it. …What can I say? We were _family_.”  
Logan’s hands stilled.  
“He and Dee were already there, in the dark, when I was… made. And Dee took me in and Virgil was like the brother I was supposed to have.”  
Logan’s fingers twitched in Remus’ hair.  
“And… yeah,” Remus said through a shuddering breath. “Well, we didn’t know his name. They knew mine, I said it right away. Virgil never told _us,_ and… Deceit hasn’t felt the need, I guess.”  
“Do you know why?”  
Remus shrugged.  
“Maybe he doesn’t like it,” he listed off. “Maybe he thinks it doesn’t suit him. Maybe he’s embarrassed by it. Maybe ‘Deceit’ is more comfortable for him. Maybe he _has_ told us and we ignored him. Maybe he just doesn’t have or want one.”  
A thought struck Remus, one that made him freeze, and he looked up at Logan with watery eyes.  
“Maybe… he thinks he doesn’t deserve one,” he whispered, and the way his voice cracked, and the way Logan’s eyes widened at that, because seeing the vulnerable side of their snake-like friend, that almost seemed very… _very_ likely.  
“Dee’s got a lot going on,” Remus finished, because he knew he only knew half the story, and or maybe a third of the story, or possibly even less. “…Though I think we all do.”  
“Hmm,” Logan agreed sadly, and he went back to playing with Remus’ hair.  
“I mean,” Remus shrugged, his shoulder pressing against Logan’s thigh through the action, “We’re just little chopped-up bits of Thomas, and if _Thomas_ so wonderfully neurotypical as we all wished we could believe, _I_ wouldn’t exist.”  
Logan paused, like he was trying to find something to say.  
“Oh, that’s not a self-deprecating comment, by the way,” Remus added quickly, glancing up at Logan. “It’s an observation. Quote-unquote ‘normal people’ don’t have intrusive thoughts, apparently.”  
“Hmm,” Logan said again, and he had a crease of thought between his eyebrows. “I… am intrigued by your statement. I am definitely going to research that more. But it seems… apt. Especially as a description of how we treat each other.”  
Remus turned back with a little smile.  
“Yeah,” he said. “I hoped you’d like it. Held onto that one for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immmm probably posting these too quickly!!! but i just want to POST yknow?? we're getting through this. poor remus is going through the motions, and he's got a loooot of motions to go through. i mean it be like that sometimes yknow
> 
> and the good omens segment there is written by someone (me) who has never actually seen good omens sdgkjsdlfgdljfdfg hopefully it's not painfully bleeding obvious


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to make up. Old family tries to reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay so  
> this is the first chapter to go up post-Putting-Ourselves-First  
> my trouble is that i've already written 30k of this fic so it's gonna be a bit before all the new concepts and developments can be woven into this. either i continue on as i was, or i write it in. and oh this... might?? drag the roceit on??? quite a lot longer. but as you can tell,,,, im a sucker for angst.  
> i'll figure that out in my own time sjghjfdlhdfh anyway hope you're having a good night. have a chapter.

\---

They did eventually fall asleep on each other. Deceit and Roman came downstairs to find Remus all but curled up in Logan’s lap, and Logan’s head tilted back and snoring softly, the dead screen on his tablet cluing them into what must’ve happened.  
“Oh,” Roman said fondly, crossing the room slowly. “At least he was in good hands.”  
“Remus or Logan?” Deceit asked, stepping over strewn blankets and pillows and glasses and other such things.  
Roman didn’t reply, only laughed to himself a little, before tapping Logan on the shoulder.  
“Hrm?” Logan blinked to life, raising his head slowly and smacking his lips a little, before he looked up to see Roman, and the prince saw the cogs beginning to turn. “Hm. Good morning, Roman.”  
“Morning, Logan,” Roman said softly. “Long night?”  
Logan looked down to see Remus still there.  
“Neither of us could sleep,” he shrugged. “So we stayed up together. I wanted to make sure his head injury was okay.”  
To his surprise, Roman hugged him. Roman buried his head in Logan’s shoulder as he felt Logan freeze, before hesitantly bringing a hand up to rest on Roman’s back.  
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for looking after him.”  
“It was the least I could do,” Logan replied. “I am slowly becoming more and more aware of how much we need to listen to each other. Your brother has some very valuable input.”

Roman hummed at that, before he pulled back and retreated into the kitchen, getting started on making something hot for everyone for breakfast. Deceit sat in Logan’s abandoned armchair, watching in silent regard as Logan gently woke Remus up.  
Remus took a bit to stir, before he lifted his head to look at Logan, and the events of the past day trickled in.  
“Hey,” he smiled.  
“Hello,” Logan said, smoothing Remus’ hair in a now familiar gesture. “How are you feeling?”  
“Like I got a headache,” Remus yawned, and Logan snorted softly at that.   
“Do you want any Panadol or such for that?” Logan offered.  
“Nah,” Remus hummed, settling in Logan’s lap more comfortably. “It doesn’t work well for me. It’ll be gone by midday. I’ll be fine.”  
Logan went to say something else, but Deceit cleared his throat softly.  
Remus froze, before his eyes flicked over in Deceit’s direction, and he slowly sat up.   
It took him a moment, but finally, Remus found the bravery in himself to turn and look at Deceit.  
“Hi,” Deceit said quietly.  
Remus fiddled with his sash.  
“…Hi,” he mumbled back. He looked down at his lap and didn’t look back up. He looked like he was expecting to be lectured, or maybe told off.  
Deceit regarded him for a moment.  
Then a series of things happened in quick succession.

Logan watched something in Deceit’s expression shift, like he was fending off tears.   
Then, there was a flurry of movement.  
Before Remus was even sure what was happening, he found his arms full of Deceit, who was hugging him tightly and burying his face in the Duke’s shoulder.

Without even thinking of second-guessing himself, Remus wrapped his arms right back around Deceit, gasping for air.  
“No apologies,” Deceit cut off whatever Remus was going to say. “I never want to hear you apologise for being yourself, and for struggling in your own head ever again. I’m just so happy you’re here with me today, alright? And I’ve been happy all my life to have you with me, every day of it, and I’ll be happy for the rest of it as well, but only if you’re there too, okay?”  
Remus flinched in his arms, absolutely shocked into tears at the words, at the touch, and he slumped forward against his dad and just nodded, weeping openly into Deceit’s shoulder.  
Deceit’s hand was in his hair. He was humming softly and swaying them gently from side to side, soothing Remus without even saying a word. By the time Remus had finished crying and was willing to let Deceit go, Logan was pressing a cup of water into his hands because ‘all that crying must’ve left him very dehydrated.’

\---

By the time he was calm and soothed, seated around the dining table with his family and new friend, Patton and Virgil were coming downstairs hand-in-hand. Patton was squeezing Virgil’s hand steadyingly as they approached the table, and Virgil still looked pretty spooked. He had his other hand buried deep in his hoodie pocket, and as the pair approached the table, he pulled out a stack of what looked like notecards, all covered in his spiderweb scrawl.  
As they sat down across the table from Remus, Patton tried his best to meet Remus’ eyes, but neither of them seemed to be able to maintain it.  
Fortunately they didn’t need to, as with some bright humming of what sounded like _Be Our Guest_ from Beauty and the Beast, Roman was carrying plates of hot breakfast over and setting them down on the table. What he couldn’t carry went hovering through the air behind him, the flatware bobbing up and down behind him in time with the song, and he sent them around the table to gently land in front of everywhere with a matching set of cutlery. If his goal was to break the ice, it certainly worked, and everyone was hiding various levels of smiles and stealing appreciative glances at the prince who was still standing at the head of the table.  
“Please!” he said, clasping his hands, before gesturing at the spread before them. “Be my guest!”

It was nice. It was a nice meal. And Roman and Logan worked very hard between the two of them to keep it both civil and light-hearted. Remus still wasn’t good with a knife and fork, but he handled it a little better, and at least he could get away with using his hands for the toast and the hash browns.   
And before long, it was over, and Roman was magicking the dishes away just as grandly as he presented them, and they wandered through the air and into a waiting sink full of soapy water.  
Remus was watching his brother with a growing concern. Doing any sort of conjuring tricks outside of the Imagination got exhausting quite quickly. Roman was putting in a lot of effort very early in the day, and he was beginning to get… worried. He managed to catch Roman’s eye, and his brother only winked at him, before rising from the table to go and actually do the dishes properly.  
Remus couldn’t help but noticed that he was both seemingly well-rested and in high spirits, which was… new. Refreshing, but new. He wondered what had happened last night after that whole… fiasco.  
Oh _wait!_ Wait, did he and Deceit _bang?_  
Well maybe not _bang_ because Roman was a hopeless romantic and he ‘didn’t want to rush it’ or whatever but oh, did they confess or something? Remus eyed Deceit across the table with a _‘I’m definitely interrogating you later’_ look, which made a light flush rise on Deceit’s cheeks and causing him to look away.  
Oh, something _did_ happen. That was enough for Remus.

There was a series of shuffling sounds, and Remus turned back to see Virgil fiddling with his notecards, stacking them in piles on the table in front of him, before clearing his throat nervously and looking up at him.  
He started off with picking a card up and turning it around for Deceit, Remus and Logan to read, which read _‘Hi. I’m currently non-verbal.’  
_ Logan hummed in understanding, like it was something that has happened before.  
Remus and Deceit both frowned at the card, before looking up at Virgil with various looks of concern. Remus said what Deceit didn’t want to ask but were both thinking.  
“Does this… happen? A lot?” the Duke queried, and he had gone to wringing his sash in his hands like a wet towel.  
Virgil took a sharp breath, and his free hand went fumbling under the table for something. Seeing how Patton reacted, Virgil had gone scrambling for Patton’s hand.  
He held up another notecard, one that looked well-thumbed around the edges, like it was frequently used.   
_‘Yes.’  
_ Deceit swallowed hard.  
“Is this,” he said hoarsely, “a new development?”  
Virgil went pale, but swapped out the card he was holding.  
 _‘No.’  
_ “So,” Deceit said thickly. “We didn’t notice?”  
Virgil fumbled for a card in one of the stacks, a specific one.   
_‘I was good at hiding.’_  
Remus looked down at his lap. Virgil _would_ disappear sometimes. Sometimes for days on end. They hadn’t known it was because he’d gone _mute_.  
Deceit seemed to take it equally as rough, but they didn’t get loudly upset or yell or storm off, and the calm reactions seemed to be the best choice, as Virgil seemed to physically loosen up at the realisation that his old friends weren’t _angry_ at him for this.  
“We couldn’t be angry at you, Anx,” Remus said, low and quiet, reading the question right off the set of Virgil’s brow. “I’m sorry we were such bad… friends.”  
His voice cracked on the word _friends._ He knew the word he wanted to use, and the way Logan glanced at him, Remus was reminded that he’d let the word slip last night.  
But he knew Virgil wouldn’t see him that way anymore. If he ever did. And that was okay.   
Before anyone could think of anything new to say, Virgil immediately began to sort through cards, and he had both hands back up on the table looking for a specific one again. He had an _‘I’m sorry’_ lying around that he nearly went for, but it turns out he had a more detailed one prepared, one which he flashed to Remus first, then to Deceit.  
 _‘I’m sorry for yesterday.’_  
Then another.  
 _‘I said some bad shit and I didn’t mean it.’_  
“It’s okay,” Remus said immediately, and he hoped the smile on his face didn’t look too sad.  
Deceit didn’t say anything immediately, but he did look away and rub his arms guiltily.  
 _‘It’s not okay,’_ Virgil flipped a card in Remus’ direction.  
“Yeah it was,” Remus laughed. “I had it coming. Don’t worry your head, stormcloud. I’m okay.”  
Virgil (and everyone else around the table too) shot him a very firm disbelieving look.  
Remus tried to laugh. It died quickly.  
Virgil’s hands were now shaking, and he held up a very new, crisp notecard that the ink on it seemed to still be drying.  
 _‘I invaded your privacy and it wasn’t okay.’_  
He followed up with a far more well-used card.  
 _‘I’m sorry.’_  
Remus stared at Virgil, trying to keep the openly wounded expression off his face, and he _tried_ to say it was okay, but he accidentally locked eyes with Patton, and the hesitancy there silenced him, and all he could do was shut his mouth and look down at the table, blinking furiously.   
He didn’t want to be here right now. He didn’t want to _do this_ anymore.

Someone found his knee under the table, and he looked to realise it was Deceit, offering his hand and his support, and Remus took it gladly, trying to remember how to breathe.  
Look, Virgil might’ve… outed him. But like, Remus had it coming. He should’ve known. He should’ve tried to end this earlier. He should’ve just…  
He didn’t have the energy to finish that thought anymore. He deflated, and tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face anyway.

“Virgil,” Deceit said softly, and Virgil’s eyes were on him immediately, shining and bright and flighty. “I would like to apologise for my words last night also. I was… unnecessarily cruel.”  
Virgil fumbled for a breath, before sorting through his cards.  
 _‘Me too.’  
_ “Hm,” Deceit tilted his head in a way that meant neither yes nor no. “I attacked our past, and I realise that is a sore spot for everyone involved. It was a cheap blow, and absolutely uncalled for.’  
Virgil took a sharp breath, before gesturing at the card in his hand again.  
 _‘Me too.’_  
Something unconceivably sad crossed Deceit’s face, enough to cause him to flinch – Remus could feel it through their clasped hands, before a little smile crossed Deceit’s face.  
“I was a terrible influence,” he laughed softly, his other hand going to his mouth to hide his sombre little laugh. “Look at the two of you. I’m so proud of you both, but… I gave you some awful habits, didn’t I?”  
“Oh, no,” Remus rushed. “No, mine came with the job description.”  
Virgil emphatically held up the card that read _‘No,’_ but Deceit shook his head and let go of Remus’ hand.  
“Virgil, I have one more question,” he asked, and Virgil folded his hands and waited with a nod. “And I want you to be as honest as you can.”  
Deceit closed his eyes, to try and hide the look of pain that Remus recognised in an instant, and knew exactly where this conversation was about to go. He squeezed his eyes closed and did his best to focus on everything but listening right now.  
“Are you happy?” Deceit asked, and Remus found something to dig his nails into to try to distract himself. His own thighs would do. “Are you happier here, with Patton, Logan and Roman, than you were… before?”  
 _With us?_ Is what Deceit didn’t ask, but it’s what Remus and Virgil heard clear as day.  
Virgil started to shake, and Patton put his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and shot a _look_ at Deceit that the other side didn’t seem to see.  
“I’m not upset,” he said softly, and that one seemed like a lie, if any of the past few years had stuck with Remus at all. “And I promise you, I _promise_ you that I won’t get angry at you, I never could. But I would like you to answer honestly. Are you happier up here?”  
Virgil’s shaking hands found a notecard that he held to his chest, almost unwilling to turn it around, but one glance at Deceit’s face seemed to ground Virgil enough to do it.  
Remus made himself look up to see.  
 _‘Yes.’_

Tears began to stream down Virgil’s face; hiccupping, gasping things that seemed to be an overflow of some emotion he’d held on to for a very long time, and he was shaking so hard the card fell out of his hands anyway, and it clattered to the table.  
Deceit was silent for a moment.  
Then,  
“Thank you,” he said, and he was smiling and his eyes were shining. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m so glad you’re happy. I realise I am… invading your space. I’ll go.”  
Remus could read between the lines.   
When it came to Deceit and his status, it was always _we_. Remus never got his own category. He was either a _we_ with Roman, or a _we_ with Deceit, and right now he could see which slot he was fitting into.  
Deceit stood, and breezed away from the table, and Remus, feeling sick and awfully like a well-trained dog, got up and followed him, ignoring people quietly calling his name in varying levels of shock.  
It wasn’t until Virgil forced out a _sound_ , it wasn’t at all a word but it was emotive enough to get Deceit to freeze, and Deceit realised Remus was tailing him up the stairs.  
“You…” Deceit said softly, something shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to leave.”  
Remus shook his head.  
“We’re invading his space,” he parroted back, but amending it to what he knew Deceit really meant, and watched Deceit slump at what he realised.  
“But you still haven’t…” Deceit gestured back to the table, to Logan and Virgil and _Patton_ , who was staring at him with wide eyes that held so many apprehensions and parted lips that held so many unsaid words.  
As Remus stared back, Deceit continued his ascent, hurrying away.  
There was a moment of silence, where Remus was so torn, he was _so fucking torn_.  
But as he locked eyes with Virgil, a clenching in his chest reminded him of what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to _be._  
And Remus closed his eyes and turned away, and followed Deceit back home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus decides to take matters into his own hands, and pays a visit to an old location in the heart of the Imagination. We get to meet his creations before he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyy so it gets a little like... different-toned for a bit? there are thestrals, there's an OC or two, just like, standard 'town in the imagination that the twins rule over' stuff. and yeah in a chapter or two we see roman's side too

Deceit had gone straight to his room, fully zoned out, leaving Remus very much to his own devices. He probably hadn’t even realised Remus had come back with him.

Remus stood in the middle of the commons, and god, he was so tired. He felt dead, inside and out. He thought his headache would go away, it usually did, but it just seemed to get worse, and worse, and oh he was going to tear his own hair out. He remembered the feeling of eyes on him, and for the first time, the attention made his skin crawl. He felt sick. He couldn’t _breathe_ past the rocky little lump of shame that had neatly wedged itself in the base of his throat.  
On the kitchen bench, tucked out of the way but absolutely recognisable, was his sketchbook. Deceit must’ve brought it back home after Remus fainted.  
Remus picked it up, running a hand over the cover, and a wash of self-loathing so thick it felt like it could honest-to-god sweep him off his feet hit him and the memory of what this thing held, and what it had done to him.   
He tucked it under his arm.  
There was only one thing for it now, it seemed.

\---

Remus entered the Imagination with a throatful of apprehension and his chin held high. He think he knew where he wanted to go for this, and he really wasn’t in the mind to walk. He hurried through the town that surrounded his entrance, and crossed the main plaza, nodding politely at his villagers as he went. He approached the stables, and the stablehand (one of his favourite creations, a too-tall bow-legged man with a beard down to his hips and blue-green eyes that sparkled like the sea, and two sets of arms) rushed to meet him.  
“Your grace!” he beamed. “It’s been too long, sir.”  
“Indeed it has, Jerry,” Remus said with a little smile. “But I’m here on business first. I… I need to make a journey.”  
His creations were always influenced by his emotions. Remus could feel how dejected the townsfolk were as he entered, and he could see the melancholy glittering in Jerry’s eyes.  
“Very well, your grace,” he nodded, bowing deeply. “Where are you goin’?”  
“I’m going to…” Remus didn’t want to say it out loud, but it seemed he _knew_.  
“Ah,” Jerry hummed, and he gestured for Remus to follow him as he lumbered off into the stables. “I was hopin’ not, but… I know just what you need.”

Remus was pleased to see what Jerry had offered; it was (literally) what he had in mind. A thestral.   
The black skeletal winged horse trotted out of its pen obediently as Jerry opened the door, and bowed to Remus deeply.  
Only here, in the realm of his own imagining, did Remus get the respect he’d always hope for without question.  
“She’ll treat you well,” Jerry said, patting the thestral’s cheek, before offering the reins to Remus with a deep bow of his own.   
“Does she have a name?” Remus asked respectfully, accepting the reins and raising his hand to the thestral slowly. She nuzzled straight into his offered palm immediately.  
“I heard a wee girl name her Sapphire,” Jerry offered, two of his hands scratching behind his head.  
“Sapphire,” Remus smiled. “I love it.”  
Jerry helped him mount up, and lead Sapphire out into the open air.   
“Return soon, your grace!” Jerry said as cheerfully as the stablehand could muster. “We miss you!”  
Remus smiled as much as he could.  
“I will,” he said. “Maybe we can have a festival when I get back. That’d be fun. Maybe I can convince Roman to come!”  
Jerry seemed surprised at that. Remus’ own gut twisted as the words tumbled out of his mouth. It was always a little… telling, when he could surprise himself like this with the dumb shit he tended to say. But he adjusted the sketchbook under his arm, and took the reins in both hands.  
“…Never mind,” he laughed. “I’ll be back!”  
And before anyone could say another word, Remus spurred the thestral onwards, and she went with a clatter of hooves, before her mighty wings unfurled. A few beats was all it took before she and Remus were soaring.  
Remus guided her on one last circuit over his wonderful town, where he could see his creations looking up and pointing and smiling and waving, and he waved back, before he guided Sapphire on, towards the heart of the Imagination.

The mountain was in sight, and it was growing steadily bigger. Even with the thestral’s amazing speed, it still took three hours to get this close. Remus was uncomfortable. He was cold, he was hungry, but he knew that Sapphire wasn’t going to run out of energy, and they were probably only an hour away now. He nearly fell asleep, but he had no saddle, and wasn’t tied down, and it took some very fancy flying from Sapphire to make sure he didn’t plummet to his hypothetical death, and that jolted him awake, funnily enough.   
So he sat, stewing in his own thoughts, and the weather grew bad around them, causing Sapphire to soar higher to fly above the clouds, even though it was frightfully cold and the air was thin. It didn’t bother the thestral, and Remus just closed his eyes and went along with it.

After that last hour finally ticked by, Sapphire was landing at the mouth of a mighty cave. Remus scrambled off her back with a groan, stiff and cold, but thanked her with a deep bow of his own, before hugging her neck and kissing her nose.   
The thestral nickered at him, clearly pleased with the affection, before beating her wings in the air a couple times, but not taking off.  
“Yeah,” Remus said with a smile. “You can go. If I call you, will you come back?”  
Sapphire nodded.  
“Clever girl,” Remus cooed, scratching between the skeletal horse’s near-non-existent ears. “Thank you, Sapphire. You worked hard today. Go get some rest.”  
Sapphire trotted around him in a circle, neighing, before she went galloping off down the mountainside, wings unfurling, and Remus watched her take to the air, soaring up into the clouds with a freedom he ached whole-heartedly to have one day.  
The freedom to _be_ what he wanted and who he wanted, and be _with_ who he wanted.   
Remus hissed at himself, then raised his hand and slapped himself across the face. He readjusted his grip on his sketchbook and took a breath.  
“Get used to not having it, Remus,” he grumbled to himself as he turned and started to wander inside the cave. “’Cos you’re not getting it. You _know_ that.”

It got warmer the further in he got. This was a place he and Roman hardly ever came, but they knew it well. It was called Death Mountain. The name was bland and on the nose, but… well, they hadn’t named it. When Roman and him had first entered the Imagination after… they came to be, this was one of the constant landmarks, and one they knew without _knowing_.  
Death Mountain.  
Where ideas went to die.  
Remus picked up his pace and forded onwards, and the crunch of ancient gravel under his feet kept his grounded as he went. It was beginning to get very warm.  
After his cold flight, Remus was glad for it.   
  
Finally, the tunnel opened up into a cavern, a _huge_ cavern. The base of the mountain was hollow, and hundreds of feet below the great precipice were Remus was stood, lava lazily bubbled and spat, casting the room with a shifting red glow.  
Remus took a deep breath, the smell of brimstone in his nose, and…  
took a step back from the edge.

He rubbed his face tiredly, before falling back a dozen meters onto more stable rock. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned himself a small but comfortable campsite, not needing a tent in the warmth of the cave. He did start a fire, though, mostly to cook himself something. Because he was hungry, damn it, and he wanted to eat, and he deserved to eat, or so Deceit had told him a few times before. And he wanted something with more substance than a conjured-on-the-spot meal.  
Remus settled back on a camp roll with his back against the wall, clutching his makeshift wooden bowl for warmth as the cold was chased from his bones, chowing down on his creation, the Remus Supreme (I wouldn’t ask what was it in, just know it’s some form of meat, both pasta _and_ rice in the same dish, and a sauce he’ll never give up the recipe for. It _does_ , however, taste surprisingly good).  
Soon, Remus found his head nodding into his chest, and he warred with himself briefly. He _should_ do what he came here to do and leave, shouldn’t he?  
But it was so warm. And he was so tired, and Remus hadn’t even found it in himself to put up a fight as he lay down on his bedroll and closed his eyes.  
He was asleep before he knew it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton starts thinking too much. Roman offers the only thing he can - a course of action.

Patton was pacing.  
He didn’t mean to! But Virgil’s confrontation left him anxious. And Virgil had stacked his notecards away and stared at the wall as Remus hurried away upstairs, and oh, the look on Remus’ face would be forever seared into Patton’s memory.  
 _Why did he leave?_  
Didn’t Remus want to talk to him? To… sort this all out?  
Was he scared of Patton? Of what Patton might say, of what he might think?

To be honest, Patton didn’t _know_ what to think. He had spent all night lying awake whilst cuddling Virgil to his chest (when Virgil got like this, he tended to request lots of grounding touch, which Patton was happy to provide) trying to piece together what he thought about the whole thing. How he felt. Because he couldn’t ignore it. As much as Remus probably _wanted_ him to, that just wasn’t _fair._ Having your feelings neglected, romantic or not, _hurt._  
Patton knew what that was like.

So he paced. Logan paced when he got stressed, and when Patton asked him why, Logan had said that it helped him channel the feelings somewhere else so he could actually _think_.  
So Patton thought he’d try it out.   
Because, oh _boy_ did Patton have lots of thoughts to think.

Remus was… Patton sighed, rubbing his arms and trying not to jump to conclusions unfairly. Remus was… _passionate!_ That was safe to say! Remus was… loyal, it seemed. Very loyal. And Remus was… _very_ genuine. And his artwork was stunning. While Patton was a little weirded out by the drawings of him, they were _beautiful._  
Patton scolded himself for the surprise he felt at calling something Remus did ‘beautiful’. Of _course_ there was beauty to be found in everything Remus did, just like there was beauty in Roman’s work, or in Logan’s work, or anyone’s work. It was in the eye of the beholder, you know? Patton just needed the right _lens_ for Remus.  
Hm. Patton had made himself even more uncomfortable.  
Because he’d proven to himself that he couldn’t think of Remus normally, like a person. And that was, to quote Virgil, _a big yikes._  
Patton shuddered, and sat down on the sofa promptly. Where were these thoughts coming from? He shouldn’t be thinking of anyone like that, let alone someone in Remus’ shoes. Remus was hurting, and badly, and _Patton_ was at the centre of those feelings.  
Patton shrunk into himself, and sat down on the sofa.  
Was this… was this _his_ fault?  
…  
He didn’t _want_ it to be his fault, but Remus hadn’t _done_ anything to hurt him. Secrecy had been hurting him, and he kept it secret because he didn’t feel safe enough to act on it. And _that_ was… Patton’s fault… right? Patton clapped a hand over his mouth and forced himself to breathe steadily and evenly. He wasn’t scared of Remus, he hoped. Well, Remus certainly had his scary moments! Just take what he almost did to Logan the other night.  
But! Did he do that _because_ he was hurting? Because they’d shut him out?  
So was Remus being scary Patton’s fault?

His heart was sinking. Patton was sure that Logan might tell him that it wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure he could follow that train of logic. If you traced it back far enough, Patton reckoned that the fact he personally didn’t take both freshly split sides of Creativity in was probably the watershed moment here. But Patton had been scared then. He’d been scared of Creativity then, and he’d been scared of Remus ever since. In fact, it wasn’t until recently that he’d ever even _thought_ about being not-scared of Remus.  
He shook his head violently. Maybe… Maybe he didn’t have to jump straight into a _relationship_ with Remus? Maybe they could try a friendship and go with it from there…?  
But that wasn’t what Remus _wanted_. And Patton had hurt him so much already.

There was a gentle touch to his shoulder, and Patton jumped. It was Roman, who skirted the couch and immediately settled in next to him, already murmuring comforts and pulling him into his arms. It was then that Patton realised that somewhere deep in the loud clutter of his thoughts he had started crying.   
“What’s wrong, Patton?” Roman asked, eyes wide.  
“It’s my fault,” Patton hiccupped, trying not to melt into Roman’s embrace but falling for it anyway. “This is all my fault but I’m not brave enough to fix it.”  
Roman flinched, and Patton sighed and tried to pull away.  
To his surprise, Roman pulled him back, hugging him tighter.  
“It’s _not_ your fault,” Roman all but growled, his face in Patton’s hair. “Don’t even begin to _think_ that it is.”  
Patton did not believe him in the slightest.  
“Look,” Roman said quietly, and Patton felt the prince’s lips moving against his hair more than he heard him, “I think we just need to talk. Remus… Remus ran, because Deceit seems to have taught them that confrontation is the most dangerous thing that can happen to them. Remember what Virgil was like, and what Deceit still _is_ like. I say we go find Remus, and make him talk about it.”  
“But that’ll hurt him,” Patton protested.  
“So will _not_ talking to him,” Roman replied. “In fact, _not_ doing anything will just string it out more painfully. Remus is many things, but he’s not _malicious._ He won’t hurt you.”  
Patton wanted to believe him. But he had his doubts.  
Roman wanted to give an example, but Patton felt him deflate as he scrambled for words that weren’t there.   
“I don’t think we could see two more opposed sides in this situation,” Roman mused, sitting back and rubbing his chin tiredly.   
“Do…” Patton cleared his throat tentatively. “Do you think Remus will mind if I ask just to be friends first? I don’t want to hurt him any _more_ but I don’t know if I can bring myself to… y’know?”  
“I think Remus would be delighted that you’d want to even look at him,” Roman said sombrely, and Patton stared into the middle distance as Roman stood up. A shock of guilt and awe flashed through him. Had they _really_ exiled them that badly? Had Patton really made his home so inhospitable?  
“We lived how we needed to,” Roman said softly, offering a hand up to Patton. “And the past decisions have had impact on the future. That’s how it _works_. The only thing we can do is move forward.”  
“How do I know I won’t do the wrong thing again?” Patton asked, so vulnerable, and he turned away quickly as he _kicked_ himself. Why was he asking _Roman_ this? He was older than Roman, technically! This wasn’t fair of him, as someone who tasked himself with caring for his younger family member, to dump this sort of thing on him.  
Roma touched his shoulder.  
“We don’t,” he said simply. “And we might never know. It’ll only ever become clear in retrospect, and even then, not for a long time. But we need to start, else we will rot in our own stagnation.”  
Patton was shaking. He was trying not to. He got to his feet and started pacing again, maybe hoping he could wear his emotions out through the soles of his shoes.  
“We need to go find him,” Roman said quietly, rising from the sofa. “I’m going either way, but I think you should come with me.”  
Patton stopped dead in his tracks. His instinct was to say _no_.   
But Roman was right. It was the right thing to do.  
He took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Roman offered him his hand.  
“It’s… It’s the right thing to do,” he told himself weakly, and he opened his eyes and took Roman’s hand hesitantly. “Lead the way, your highness.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman takes Patton into the Imagination to begin their search for Remus. Patton takes in the sights.

Roman had led Patton determinedly through the mindscape, throwing open the Imagination’s doors, and breaking into a light jog as Patton trailed behind him. They crested a hill, and Patton paused in awe as Roman’s village came into view.   
It was a homely little hamlet, but clean and well-tended. Beautiful gardens intersected the gorgeous little cottages, which lined wide, cobbled streets that had white and red bunting hanging between their quaint streetlamps. Despite the concentration of houses being low, the village sprawled comfortably across the rolling greens, giving the impression that it was a larger settlement than it actually was. Patton stared in wonder, and for a moment, he forgot their mission. He just wanted to stay here, where the scent of baking bread was on the breeze, and friendly-looking villagers were tending gardens and playing music and laughing.  
“Patton!” Roman commanded. “Follow me!”

Despite this sudden and intense longing for _home,_ Roman’s booming voice jolted Patton out of his stupor. He stumbled down the cobbled road after Roman, shivering, unsure what just came over him. Roman glanced at him, before doubling back to put his arm around Patton’s shoulders and leading him onwards.   
“I forgot,” he murmured quietly, “that I made this place to feel like _home_. I’m so used to it, but it must be intense for a first-timer.”  
“I want to stay here,” Patton hummed back, starry-eyed as he gazed around.  
Roman’s grip tightened ever-so-slightly.  
“We’ll come back,” he promised quietly. “I’ll show you around. But we can’t stay.”  
Something in Patton’s chest twisted as Roman said that.  
“Why not?”  
Roman flinched. His eyes roamed around the plaza they had hurried into as he tried to find the right words.  
“If we stay here, we can’t help Remus,” he settled on.  
Something cold, or perhaps more acutely, something _chilling_ settled over Patton, before he shivered intensely from head-to-toe like a dog shaking off water. Yes, that’s what they were here for. He couldn’t get distracted. And as beautiful as Roman’s town was, he couldn’t stay here.  
“Okay,” he said, and he took Roman’s hand for strength. “Let’s go.”

Roman lead him towards the stables. The doors were hanging open, spilling light and warmth into the dimming afternoon. As they approached, the stablehand loped out the door, stooping so not to hit her head.  
“Prince Roman!” she called, a beam spreading across her face. “Oh, my lord, it’s been too long!”  
Roman cracked a smile, a smile Patton hadn’t seen in a long time.  
“Sylvia,” he greeted warmly. “It _has_ indeed. I apologise, my duties kept me away.”  
She closed the distance in two great strides, and Patton fully understood just how _tall_ this woman(?) was. She stood head and shoulders above both of them. Her skin was a pearlescent pale blue, glinting in the sunlight. Her hair was tossed back in long braids all the way down her back in thick, dark, ropes. Patton took a step back as she stooped down and threw four of her arms around Roman, lifting him up in a bearhug as Roman laughed, her other two arms on her hips. Patton stared, he couldn’t help it. She looked like a Gem, honestly, like a cross between Opal and Bismuth, if he had to place it.   
“Alright, alright, Sylvia,” Roman laughed, patting the great woman’s shoulder. “Put me down, my friend.”  
She did as asked, lightly placing Roman down on his feet, before dusting off his jacket, straightening his sash.   
“How long are you staying, your highness?” she asked eagerly, but there was a melancholy twinkle in her eye.   
Roman’s smile fell a little.  
“This visit is business only, I’m afraid,” he informed her. “Patton and I have to go find my brother.”  
Patton watched in surprise as Sylvia nodded in sympathy before Roman even finished talking, like she already knew.   
“I’ll arrange your steeds for you,” she said, ushering them inside the stable. “Fastest we’ve got.”

“Oh!” Roman realised as they hurried inside. “I didn’t introduce you, Patton. This is Sylvia, she’s one of my oldest creations, and is my stablehand, amongst many other talents of hers.”  
And he turned to Sylvia, who had disappeared down the length of the stable, before returning with two brilliant white horses, leading them by the gilt bridle.   
“Sylvia, I didn’t introduce you to Patton, did I?”  
“No, you did not, Prince Roman!” she said brightly, and she turned and bowed deeply to Patton. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”  
“O-oh, I’m no-” Patton stammered, flushing as she straightened up with a soft smile. “I’m no one special, I-I… um, it’s nice to meet you too.”  
“All of the Sides are immediately treated as high-ranking here,” Roman whispered to him. “So you might be called a Lord a few times. Should’ve given you a heads up.”  
“Why?”  
Roman blinked.   
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t consciously control every aspect of this. But come, Pat! Let’s meet our steeds.”

Roman strode forward with Sylvia eagerly, with Patton rushing to keep up.   
“Here we have two of your finest pegasi, my prince,” Sylvia said. “Arget and Aurea.”  
“Silver and Gold,” Roman hummed, and as Patton looked closer, he could see that one pegasus seemed to glow with a golden glimmer, and the other seemed to shimmer with a silver shine. “They’re beautiful.”  
“They’ll take you where you need to go,” Sylvia said, handing the reins of Aurea to Roman, and Arget to Patton. Patton smiled as bravely as he could as this beautiful creature, who eyed him with surprisingly kind eyes. Roman pet his pegasus’ nose, and was rewarded with Aurea snuggling right into his arms, nickering softly.   
Patton followed his lead, and carefully stroked Arget’s neck, constantly flicking his eyes up for any signs of horse discomfort. Arget nuzzled into Patton’s touch happily, and it drew a smile out of the side.   
“They’ll carry you swift and true,” Sylvia said, and she was beginning to lead them outside so they could leave.  
“Um,” Patton said, and shrunk as his voice squeaked and they both turned to look at him. “Do we… need, like, um, saddles?”  
Sylvia chuckled at that.   
“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “They won’t let you fall, my lord. Saddles are unnecessary.”  
Roman furrowed his brow as he watched Patton try to laugh his worry away.   
“Would it make you feel more comfortable, Patton?” he asked.  
Patton shuffled his feet and didn’t reply.   
“I mean,” he rushed out. “If Arget doesn’t _want_ to wear a saddle, that’s fine, and I imagine it’s very comfy to wear one, either, but, like…”  
“Arget,” Roman addressed the horse. “Would you mind wearing a saddle so Lord Patton will be comfortable?”  
The pegasus nickered, shook its head, and bowed deeply to Patton.  
“Oh gosh,” Patton half-laughed, fanning his face.  
“See? It’s more than fine,” Roman nodded. “Here.”  
He snapped his fingers, and a saddle appeared out of thin air, and wrapped itself around Arget’s middle, adjusting to the perfect size, before Roman swiftly mounted Aurea, settling on the steed’s back comfortably.   
Patton got his foot in a stirrup, and tried to heave himself up, but he didn’t know what he was doing, and nearly fell off.  
“Woah, there!” Sylvia cried, catching him easily, before simply lifting Patton like a kitten and setting him down in the saddle. “You okay?”  
“Mm-hm!” Patton squeaked, flushed red with embarrassment and honestly on the point of tears. He felt like if he had to open his mouth, he’d scream.   
“Alright,” Roman said soothingly. “We’re good to go. Patton, you don’t have to worry about steering, okay? Arget knows where we’re going, or at least can follow me. You ready?”  
Patton just nodded, and gripped Arget’s reins tightly.  
“Then here we go!” Roman wooped, and he spurred Aurea onwards with a laugh. Patton cried out as Arget started to canter after them, before the two pegasi were thundering down a hill, and Patton watched in awe as they spread their wings, glinting and majestic in the afternoon sun, before launching themselves into the air.

The initial weightlessness, then gravity slamming its grip back onto him left Patton feeling sick. He all but clung to Arget’s neck, muttering reassurances and prayers under his breath until the flight evened out. Finally, he mustered his courage to look up.  
He was glad he did.

The view was beautiful. Rolling hills, covered with fields of flowers and wheat, and as they flew overhead, farmers lifted their heads and waved to them, Roman waving back and shouting greetings. In the distance, framed by the setting sun, were glinting icecaps on forested mountains. Below them, a great braided river wove its way, catching the light in a distracting array. When Patton finally found it in himself to tear his eyes away, he shifted his gaze onto Roman.  
Roman looked _radiant._  
The look on his just _shone_ with a joy Patton had only ever caught glimpses of before. His eyes were bright and lively. He seemed to glow from within. Roman turned and caught Patton staring at him, and instead of shying away or hiding, he just beamed even wider.  
“Isn’t it pretty?” he shouted over the wind.   
Even just seeing Roman so happy made Patton’s heart soar.   
“It’s wonderful!” he called back.  
Roman’s smile only grew from there. He tossed his head back and laughed, a joyous sound that made all the wildlife in the area lift their heads and join in. Even the pegasi joined the chorus, and Patton could only watch in awe.  
He had no idea. No _idea_ how much the Imagination _meant_ to Roman. He’d always known it was a handy tool, at least, and fun! And he knew that Roman always spent what Logan called ‘too much time’ in here, but now he’d seen it with his own two eyes, he wasn’t sure how Roman could ever bring himself to leave.   
He felt _loved_ here. And it was such a warm, glowing, and unusual feeling that Patton had to turn away to dry his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry im just yeeting up a couple chapters lmao  
> i think with this one we tip over 30k words. there's a few more chapters in storage so dont expect the new-episode stuff to come in for a wee while now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Patton arrive in Remus' kingdom, and start asking for his whereabouts. Roman doesn't like the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!!! im slapping up the next couple chapters bc im cryingly excited over this oh man there's some potent a n g s t

After a couple hours, Patton was shifting in his saddle, a smidge uncomfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable. And Roman didn’t look much better off, honestly. But not too long ago, Patton had noticed the landscape changing. Spring greens faded into darker, mottled colours. The abundance of life shifted to a land clinging to it. The mountains were jagged and harsh, dark and looming on the horizon where Roman’s had been a majestic framing of the land below.   
But… it wasn’t _ugly._ It was just different.   
The sky was fading into dusty twilight, but the stars that peaked overhead were still familiar and friendly.   
Patton gazed across the land, and smiled.  
“This is nice,” he called to Roman.  
“Nice?” Roman tilted his head questioningly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

As they drew close to Remus’ settlement, it was obvious the pegasi were tiring out. The beatings of their wings slowed, until they simply elected to glide down on aching muscles down to land in the plaza of Remus’ town.

Patton was somewhat taken away with Remus’ town. It was pleasant. It actually was. The streets weren’t as wide as Roman’s, but all the homes were cottages as well, all gothic style buildings made of stone and aged timber. Gaslamps lit up the twilight as well, and all the villagers slowly came out of their houses, various eyes wide, staring at Roman and Patton, and these two shining steeds in their town square.  
Patton found himself backing up, and the backs of his knees hit the low wall of the fountain in the centre. He looked behind him to see the water feature was a great kraken destroying a ship.   
“Hail!” Roman declared, confident and booming. “I’ve come in peace, to seek my brother! Last I felt, he was here. May I request your aid?”  
There was murmuring amongst Remus’ creations, like they were unsure whether they should believe the prince or not.  
Patton couldn’t help but look closer, trying not to stare at the people here. Most of them had very animalistic features, or multiple eyes, or sometimes multiple heads and limbs, but it’d be a disservice to call them crudely made. Some were grotesque, and some were… _spiderlike_ , Patton noted with a poorly hidden shudder, but they were all bright-eyed and aware, and very respectful. Many of them bowed, before offering soft apologies and scarpering back into their homes.   
The sound of footsteps jarred Patton’s thoughts.  
They both looked up to see a man lumbering towards them. He was bow-legged and four-armed, and had a long, long beard. Patton didn’t know what to think of him, until he met his eyes. They were blue-green, and sparkled with a mirth that immediately set them at ease.  
“Greetings, your highness, my lord,” the man said, bowing deeply to each of them in turn. “…Y’looking for the duke, I heard?”  
“That we are, my good man,” Roman said as cheerfully as he could muster.   
A cold breeze whistled through the plaza, along with a splatter of rain, and the creation looked up at the sky, before clicking his tongue.   
“Please, my lords, come inside, an’ we’ll talk. It gets frightfully cold this time of night.”

They followed him into the stables, leading the pegasi behind them.   
“Aye, I forgot to introduce myself,” the big man said with a laugh. “The name’s Jerry. I’m Duke Remus’ stablehand.”  
“Ah,” Roman said warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
“An’ you, sir,” Jerry said. “Though I believe I’ve seen you from a distance before.”  
Roman scratched the back of his head.   
“Remus and I both used to be too violent for our own good,” he mumbled. “…Oh, and my companion! Lord Patton.”  
Patton rubbed the back of his neck, and when Jerry bowed again, he gave a big awkward respectful nod-bow thing back.  
“Hello,” he said lamely.  
Jerry smiled.   
“I recognise you,” he said.  
“I’ve never been here before,” Patton said confusedly.  
Something sad twinkled in Jerry’s eye. Patton bit his lip, took a shaky breath, and tried to smile. Behind them, their pegasi nickered softly.   
Immediately, Roman jolted, spinning on his heel.  
“Oh, you poor things, of course,” he hummed, pressing his forehead to Aurea’s in sympathy. “You did so well, carrying us all that way.”  
“You flew straight from your kingdom, my lord?” Jerry blinked.  
“That we did,” Roman confirmed. “It is… a somewhat pressing matter, to find my brother. Have you any clue where he went?”  
Patton was glancing between them, just trying to keep up with the conversation. A part of him found it amusing, how Roman slipped into a more ‘archaic’ (for lack of a better term) way of speaking when he was here. But on the whole, it was kind of cool. It was cool that Roman, and Remus, had this whole thing that was all their own.  
Patton looked down at his hands. Roman and Remus had this. Logan had his sciences. Virgil had his music. Dee… well he wasn’t sure what Dee had, but he was sure he had some hobby. And what did Patton have?  
Hoarding, as Logan had called it once.   
Patton winced at himself.   
Hoarding, and being emotional.   
When they got out of here, he needed to find himself a hobby.  
Then, Patton forced himself to tune back into their conversation.  
“-and your steeds have a place here, if they so wish. I swear on my life they’ll be looked after.”  
“I appreciate that very much, Jerry. Do you know where Remus went, perchance?”  
Jerry scratched the back of his head, looking grim.  
“Oh,” Roman breathed. “He _didn’t.”_  
“Aye,” Jerry nodded. “He did. Death Mountain, my prince.”  
“Death Mountain?” Patton asked, confused.  
“I’ll explain on the way,” Roman said sharply, and he went to leave, already in his own head, trying to plan.  
“What, are we walking there?” Patton called, grabbing his arm. “Roman, think this through. It’s cold and raining, and Arget and Aurea are _exhausted._ And you look like you’re going to fall over too, honestly.”  
“I’m fine!” Roman exclaimed. “But… it’d be cruel to force them onwards, you’re right. But we _need_ to get there, I know how dangerous that place is, and I don’t know what Remus is planning to do!”  
“I’ll provide you with fresh steeds,” Jerry chimed in seriously, taking the reins of the pegasi carefully. The horses didn’t seem to distressed, but did ruffle their wings and eye him cautiously. “But the winds are high. It’d be foolish to head out now.”  
“Then call me a fool!” Roman snapped, but it was clear to see the anger came from fear.   
Jerry took this response with the hint of a smile, and lead the pegasi away to two empty, clean stalls down the far end.

As they waited, Roman twisted his sash in his hands.  
Patton put his arm around him, unsure what to say. He could feel Roman shaking.  
“Here,” Jerry called. “These are the fastest steeds we have.”  
He seemed to be leading two things by the bridle. Patton looked, and didn’t see anything.  
“Oh,” Roman said softly. “That’s a good idea…”  
“What? I don’t see anything.” Patton whispered to Roman.  
“Thestrals,” Roman said.   
“Oh!” Patton smiled. He supposed it made sense that he couldn’t see them, then. Then he realised, _Roman_ could see them? What?   
“Here,” Jerry helped them up. Patton clung to what he could feel rather than see, the bony neck of the thestral. The thestral must’ve taken a step forward then, because the whole room lurched, and Patton let out a cry of terror and buried his head in his shoulder as best he could, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.  
“I hate this,” he whimpered. “I appreciate this, but I hate this. I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay,” Jerry said, sympathetic. He reached out and patted empty space. “He don’t mind a bit. Yours is called Onyx, sir. And yours, your highness, Ruby.”  
“They’re beautiful,” Roman complimented, before gripping the reins and steering Ruby around in a tight loop. “Thank you, for your kindness and generosity. We’ll return with your duke, I promise.”  
Jerry’s eyes were sad but thankful. He pushed the stable doors open with his four mighty hands, before leaping aside as both steeds reared with a cry, before galloping out with unfurling wings into stormy night.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus... 
> 
> ...waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a.... sad. kinda heavy chapter. Remus is doing his best. and honestly this was one of my favourite chapters to write

Remus had woken up a couple hours ago.  
He should get up.  
He should do something. Anything at this point.  
But instead, he was sitting there, staring into his campfire, just… staring.

It probably wasn’t even justified to call it ‘thinking’. He sat there, watching the flames flicker, watching it dance for him, and letting it lull him into an empty state of being. All that he could hear was the crackle of the flames, the lazy bubbling of the magma below, and the gentle rasp of his own unlaboured breathing.  
After a few… well, Remus didn’t know. Moments? He decided to go with ‘moments’. After a few moments, Remus let his eyes slip closed too.  
And there he sat. Waiting. For…  
Well, he didn’t know.

After some time, there came the _thump_ of something small hitting stone, and the rustle of paper. Remus slowly opened his eyes again to see his sketchbook, open beside him, and… across the fire, regarding him with a sad and patient eye, was the Patton construct.

Remus swallowed hard, and opened his mouth.  
“Hi,” he croaked.  
“Hello,” the Patton hummed back softly.  
They didn’t say much after that. Remus knew what the question was, just by this Patton’s presence. If he did this, there was no telling what might become of his heart, like Deceit had described to him. There was no telling whether he’d ever be able to like Patton in _any_ context, ever again. And that hurt to consider.  
But it hurt more, to knowingly carry on in a world where Patton _knew_ , and would cold shoulder him for the rest of Thomas’ life. At least this way, when Patton turned him down, it wouldn’t mean anything to him.

As those thoughts struck him, the Patton construct let out a wail of grief that made Remus jolt badly. But he knew why. He’d be wailing too if he weren’t so tired.  
“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”  
“You’re going to kill me,” the construct warbled. “And you’re going to destroy you.”  
Remus’ breathing hitched.  
“I don’t want to,” he hushed, trying to calm this figment down. “But…”  
“There’s always a choice,” the Patton reminded him.  
“There isn’t,” Remus shook his head. “There isn’t anymore.”  
“You could stay here with me,” the Patton construct said once more. “You could stay in the Imagination, with me, and you could be happy.”  
Remus blinked at the dirt floor.  
“They all want me gone anyway,” he mumbled, resting his chin on his knees. But… a kernel of doubt stopped him from committing to his self-loathing. A kernel that looked like Deceit.  
Oh, he couldn’t leave Dee like that. _Especially_ after Virgil abandoned them. He’d break Deceit’s heart, and no amount of Roman could fix that.  
And another kernel looked like Roman, for that matter. And… and another that looked like Logan.  
And if he left, he’d never be able to apologise to Virgil. Properly. Like Virgil deserved.  
If he left, he’d never see Patton again.  
Another whimper left the construct.  
“I…” Remus’ breath left him in a rush. “I… I can’t abandon them. You’re sweet, and you’re _so fucking close_ to reality, but… you’re not him.”  
“No,” the construct agreed miserably, turning its sketched hand over and watching the graphite glint under the firelight. “I’m not.”  
The construct looked up at him with sad eyes, eyes the colour of Remus’ colouring pencils.  
“You’re just talking to yourself, Remus,” it reminded him. “I’m a manifestation of your love.”  
Remus was too tired to flinch at the word ‘love’ anymore.  
“I know,” he whispered, slumping in defeat. “I know.”  
“The fact that I’m here,” the Patton continued, “means you don’t want to let go.”  
“But it’s not _about_ what I _want_ _!”_ Remus shot back, looking up with a grieving anger in his eyes. “It’s _never_ been about what I want! If what I want came true, I wouldn’t _exist!_ I wouldn’t be this broken, ugly, half-of-a-whole! I only exist to make Roman better, and I _know it._ ”  
“I love you,” said the Patton earnestly, and it started crying paper tears, which dripped down its face realistically, before detaching and aimlessly floating to the ground. Some landed in the fire with a quiet crackle. “You’re so much more than that to me.”  
“I’m _nothing!”_ Remus screamed back. “Why can’t you see that?”  
The Patton eyed him sadly.  
They sat in loaded silence, which drifted into just… sad. Lonely. Heartbroken. Grieving silence.  
“If you’re going to kill me,” it said in a warbling voice. “Can I at least spend my last hours with you? Beside you?”  
Remus closed his eyes. He felt like he was going to break.  
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’d like that.”

The Patton crawled around the fire and settled in beside him, snuggling into his side. After it made itself comfortable, Remus carefully laid his arm across its shoulders and hugged it in tight. And together, they stared straight ahead, into the darkness.  
Eventually, Remus knew he had to act. But every time he went to think about lifting his arm, his breath choked him, and the Patton curled into him a little tighter.  
After a long while, Remus looked down at it.  
“I…” he started with a shaking voice. “What am I waiting for?”  
“Hope,” the construct told him quietly. “You’re holding onto the hope that someone will stop you.”  
Remus looked away for a moment. That… that sounded about right, honestly.  
“Wait,” the Patton advised. “Wait until it gets dark again. And if we’re still alone by the time we can’t see the sun through the cave entrance… you can do it.”  
Remus sucked in a sharp breath, before shifting their positions so this Patton sat in his lap.  
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “If I had known all of this would have consequences… If I had known my thoughts would bring you to life! If I had known… I wouldn’tve.”  
“Wouldn’t you?” the construct questioned, eyes liquidy with steadily leaking tears.  
“…Yeah,” Remus sighed. “No, you’re right. I would’ve.”  
The Patton slowly reached up and cupped his chin, guiding Remus’ eyes up to its own.  
“Can I kiss you?” it asked quietly.  
The intimacy of grief made Remus shiver from head to toe.  
After a long moment of hesitation, Remus lifted his hands to rest on the construct’s hips.  
“Okay,” he whispered back.  
With a noise that sounded like rustling paper, the construct leaned in, and…  
with a tenderness Remus had always craved, pressed its lips against his.

It was lingering and slow. Remus’ eyes slipped closed without him realising, and only when the Patton pulled away, just as Remus’ lungs began to plead for air did Remus open his eyes again.  
“I’m sorry,” he said again.  
“You’re unsettled,” the construct noted, pressing their foreheads together again.  
“Anyone else would tell me that this is wrong,” Remus explained, even though he knew he didn’t need to. “Anyone else would tell me that taking advantage of a duplicate of my cr… of my _crush_ would be creepy, and morally wrong.”  
“Do you want me to stop?” it asked.  
Remus closed his eyes, noting tiredly as tears rolled down his face.  
“No,” he admitted, cheeks heating up, face burning with shame. “I don’t want you to stop.”  
The Patton kissed him again.

It was hard to try and sustain a kiss when Remus started outright sobbing and hiccupping, but the construct was persistent and gentle. And god knew how much time passed, with just this fake Patton’s lips carefully exploring Remus’ face with a tenderness Remus would never receive again. All he could do was cling to this conjuration, trying not to let it end but knowing, _but knowing it had to_ , and feeling sick.  
No, not sick.  
That was _shame_. He kept forgetting.  
“It’s okay,” the Patton whispered to him. “You’re okay.”  
Remus bit his lip as a kiss was pressed to his forehead.  
“I can’t keep doing this,” he hoarsely said back. “I can’t do this to myself.”  
The construct sat back, looking at Remus, examining Remus. A wave of guilt hit Remus, and as it did, the Patton’s expression crunched into one of intense grief, and it pressed a hand over its heart.  
“Will you forget me?” it asked.  
“I couldn’t,” Remus replied.  
“But you won’t feel the love that makes me exist,” the construct pointed out. “And if there’s no love, why remember me?”  
“But…” Remus shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know! I don’t _know.”_  
The construct just hummed sadly and kissed him again.  
“Do you think this will make you happy?” it asked.  
“No,” Remus didn’t miss a beat.  
“Then why do it?”  
“It’s not about being _happy_ , it’s about doing the right thing.”  
“The right thing?” the Patton half-laughed. “We have no way of knowing if this is the right thing.”  
“I just want to make Patton happy,” Remus protested, “and he can’t be happy if he has to live with the knowledge that _I’m_ in love with him.”  
The construct stroked his cheek, closing its eyes.  
“You could stay here with me,” it offered again.  
Its tone was so warbly and weak that Remus knew that it didn’t have an argument for him.  
“With you?” Remus cupped its face in his hands. “You’re _me._ You’re my feelings. I’m just snogging my own longing. How sad is that?”  
The Patton pressed their foreheads together, and didn’t reply.

Remus watched how, over the course of the day, the sunlight shifted and moved in the entrance to the cave. He and the Patton even went on a walk to the mouth of the cave, hand in hand, watching the landscape. Remus took a moment to pretend that this was actually Patton, who was holding his hand. Actually Patton who was rubbing its thumb across his knuckles warmly as they stared out over the dense, dark forest that made up the old landscape here in the centre of the Imagination.  
But after who knew how much time had passed, they ended up by the fire in the cave again.  
They sat in silence.  
Then, “it’s getting dark,” Remus noted.  
The construct shivered but didn’t argue.  
Remus wrapped his arms around himself and let the wave of guilt wash over him again.  
They didn’t say anything.

When the night had firmly set in, Remus had to admit that it was well past the deadline they’d set. He got to his feet slowly, and the Patton construct looked up at him with terror, but also resignation. It scooped up the sketchbook and held it out to him.  
“You realise,” it said quietly. “That there’s more than Patton in here.”  
Remus took his book with shaking hands, and opened it carefully. Flicking through the book, all of these drawings were capturing his admiration, his love, his sorrow, his complicated feelings for his friends and family. He flicked past drawings of Dee, of Roman, of Virgil, of Logan, and _so much Patton._  
“Are you aware of how much damage you will do?” the construct pleaded. “You’ll wreck your heart completely.”  
“I don’t need a heart to do my job,” Remus said stiffly.  
“Dead heart means no passion,” the construct pressed. “No passion means no creativity. Are you sure about that?”  
“How do I know you’re right?” Remus countered, cradling the book in his hands like it was a child, open on the blank page where this living sketch resided.  
“You don’t,” it shrugged. “But how do you know I’m wrong?”  
Remus’ hands were shaking.  
“I have to do this,” he repeated, blinking sudden tears away.  
The construct looked at him long and hard, before it sighed, and clambered to its feet as well.  
“I’m going to miss you,” it hummed, tears once again dripping down its face. “I love you, Remus.”  
“You’re the last thing who will,” Remus mumbled sadly.  
The Patton stepped in close, a flash of anger on its face, and it covered Remus’ hands, eyes glinting with fire.  
“You _know_ that’s not true,” it declared. “Deceit loves you!”  
Remus looked down at the empty page, blinking away more tears.  
“Roman loves you!”  
Remus turned his head.  
“Logan likes you, he wouldn’t’ve been playing with your hair for three hours otherwise!” the Patton continued.  
“Shut up,” Remus snapped lamely.  
“You’re _loved,_ ” the construct repeated, trying to catch Remus’ eye.  
“ _I_ don’t love me,” Remus shook his head, but didn’t avoid eye contact.  
“Are you sure?” the construct countered. “I love you, Remus, and in your words, I’m _your_ feelings.”  
“I used to be so sure of myself,” Remus said weakly. “I used to _adore_ being me.”  
“And you still _want_ to love being you,” the Patton continued. “You’re all you had for so long. _You_ are your oldest friend.”  
Remus was shaking.  
“You’re worried I’m going to ruin my ability to love myself if I do this,” he half-asked, daring to look up into the construct’s wide eyes.  
“I am,” it nodded. “You don’t deserve a life of misery.”  
“I don’t think that,” Remus shook his head.  
“Well, _I_ do,” the Patton pressed. “And if _I_ do, then you must too. Somewhere deep down, you don’t _want_ to hurt.”  
“No one _wants_ to hurt,” Remus laughed. “There are just people who don’t deserve it, and people who do.”  
The construct had nothing to say in response to that. It simply leaned in and hugged him tightly.  
“I can’t change your mind,” it hummed into his neck. “Can I?”  
Remus couldn’t stop shaking, and wrapped one arm around it in return, the sketchbook pressed between them. His silence was answer enough.  
“Can I have one last kiss?” the Patton asked shakily. “Before I go?”  
Remus lifted his free hand and cupped its chin, before pressing a hesitant, gentle kiss to its dry lips. He didn’t close his eyes this time. He watched the figment’s face relax, lean into it, savouring this moment in time, before it pulled away.

For a heartbeat or more, they stood, sharing this intimacy. But after a while, the construct in his embrace stirred.  
“You’re sure?” it asked again. “You’re sure you want to do this?”  
“I’m sure,” Remus croaked. “And I’m sorry.”  
“I forgive you,” the construct kissed his tears away, and the tears stained the paper that made up its body. “And I love you, Remus. Don’t forget that.”  
Remus squeezed his eyes shut.  
“And…” the construct shivered from head to toe. “Well… if you’re sure, then… I’m ready. As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
Remus pulled it in for one more kiss, and it always felt like it’d be one less than enough.  
“I’m sorry,” Remus repeated.  
“It’s up to you,” the construct shrugged. “And whatever you do, I’ll be proud of you.”  
They looked at each other.  
Then the Patton rearranged the book in Remus’ hands, so the blank pages were facing it. With a sigh, it looked up at Remus, and as it pressed a hand over the open book, it placed a hand on Remus’ cheek, smiling softly.  
Remus pressed his hand over top of the one on his cheek and closed his eyes, keeping them closed until the pressure faded, and the hand disappeared. And Remus looked down to see, staring up at him, was his detailed drawing of Patton, with the gentle smile.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Patton are on their way. They talk about the past and what it might mean for Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. i appreciate all your comments, im bad at replying, but please know ive read them all an im smiling and clutching my heart all that good stuff. this.... drags it out a bit longer but we get some backstory i guess
> 
> also the telepathy thing that comes up, uhhhh i lowkey borrowed that from Eragon my bad  
> also this chapter is kinda short i didnt realise it til now oof

\---

It was a cold and miserable three or four hours for poor Patton, hunched over a horse he couldn’t see, buffeted by wind and rain. His bottom was going numb. He was terrified. He spent the whole time hunched over the thestral and clinging to what he assumed and hoped was its neck, mostly keeping his eyes tightly scrunched closed, because looking down was just a little too terrifying for him to cope with right now. Around the time when the thunderstorm started, he had given up on pretending to be okay. At least, in the heavy rain, it didn’t matter if he was crying or not.

Roman was hunched over too, looking exhausted but fierce. He’d spent the first two and a half hours concentrating on protecting them from the wind. But he had to stop, lest he faint, and in this weather, there was no assurance his thestral would be able to catch him. So the thestrals, for the next hour or two, spent their energy battling the raging wind.  
A while ago, the mountain Roman had mentioned before came into view. Death Mountain, he’d called it.  
Oh, Patton desperately wanted to quiz him over it, but the wind was too loud, and every time he dared to open his eyes, he found himself screaming at how his invisible ride lurched through the air.

After a countless while, Patton heard something, and he snapped his head around to see what, but it was still dark, windy and pouring with roaring rain. It should be impossible to hear anything else right now.  
 _‘Patton,’_ said the voice. _‘Please don’t ignore me, I can’t concentrate hard enough right now for you to hear me if you try to block me out.’  
_ “Roman?” he asked.  
 _‘Yes, it’s me. We’re talking with our minds right now, so you don’t have to talk out loud.’  
‘Oh,’ _Patton replied. _‘Okay. That’s pretty cool, Roman! I didn’t know you could do this.’  
‘I can only do it in the Imagination,’_ Roman said, and Patton looked over at the prince, who was looking back at him. He might’ve been smiling, it was hard to tell. _‘And I’ve never tried to do it with another Side before. It works on my creations. …This takes a lot more effort, though – I don’t know how long I can keep this up.’  
‘Okay,’ _Patton nodded seriously. _‘Don’t tire yourself out, Ro.’  
‘I’ll be okay,’_ Roman chuckled. _‘But you wanted to know… about Death Mountain.’  
‘Dramatic name,’_ Patton tried to joke. _‘Bit on the nose for you, though.’  
‘I didn’t name it,’ _Roman said curtly. _‘Neither did Remus.’_  
Patton frowned.  
 _‘Who did, then?’  
‘…The King did. This is the last of the original Creativity’s domain. We can’t change it, and we can’t get rid of it. Death Mountain, and the forest below us is basically all that’s left.’_

Patton froze as soon as Roman said _king._ And he dared to look down, over the dark rolling forest below them. This… this belonged to the King? God knew what lurked in there now. He remembered the King taking him on a walk in there one day. They came face to face with a monster, and then found a clearing with a lovely brook and songbirds that performed full Disney songs. They’d had a picnic. It was the most pleasant time Patton had ever spent where he also happened to be fearing for his life the whole time.  
Patton’s gut twisted. Next to him on a thestral was that bit of King Creativity who threw the picnic. The part that had set a hyppogriffen on him was where they were going.  
He could feel Roman retreat out of his head a little, and realised with a stab of guilt that the prince had seen his thoughts.  
 _‘I’m sorry,’_ he reached back out to Roman. _‘I… Look, Aeneas and I didn’t always get along all the time, but most the time, I liked him well enough.’  
‘Aeneas?’  
_Patton blinked.  
 _‘…That was his name. Aeneas.’  
_ Roman retreated a little again, chewing on this piece of information, before reaching back into Patton’s mind once more.  
 _‘Maybe… after this, can you tell me about him?’  
_ Patton hesitated, but smiled.  
 _‘Yeah, kiddo,’_ he promised. _‘I’ll tell you some stories.’_

A wave of longing, touched with something that Patton almost recognised as grief, hit him, and it took a moment for Patton realise that it was from Roman.  
Roman seemed to take a moment to gather himself, before daring to continue the conversation.  
 _‘I’m sorry,’_ he said quietly. _‘I just… no one ever talks about him. It’s a part of my history no one’s ever dared to even mention. I don’t remember him. Neither does Remus.’  
‘I’ll do my best to talk about him to the two of you,’ _Patton promised. _‘It’s… yeah, you deserve to know.’  
_ It was weird, trying to keep his thoughts clear enough to have a conversation in his head. And trying to guard his emotions just enough that he didn’t flood Roman. Or guilt trip him with his feelings.  
 _‘It’s okay,’_ Roman said suddenly. _‘This is a really intimate form of communication, I’ll admit that. We can’t control our feelings.’  
‘Boy, if that ain’t the truth,’_ Patton snorted lightly. _‘I don’t mean to offend you.’  
‘It’s okay,’_ Roman repeated. _‘But I digress. Death Mountain. Um. The follow-up to the title is this phrase, that… don’t ask me how I know it. It’s just burned into my memory. But, uh. Death Mountain, where ideas go to die.’  
_ Patton adjusted his grip on the thestral below him, offering it a pat of encouragement, before turning his attention back to Roman.  
 _‘And what does that mean?’_ he asked. _‘How do you kill an idea?’_  
 _‘Don’t ask me how it works on a psychological level,’_ Roman said with a shrug that Patton saw lit up by a flash of lightning. _‘But it’s a volcano, with the special property that anything that gets thrown into it gets forgotten. Removed.’  
_ Something heavy settled in Patton’s throat.  
 _‘And Remus is there now?’_  
Roman’s discomfort rebounded over the link.  
 _‘Whatever he’s there to do, it’s drastic,’_ Roman continued, nodding to acknowledge Patton’s question. _‘Generally, you throw in something which is sort of the… the_ culmination _, I think is a good word, the culmination of the thing you want to erase, into the volcano, and it gets… erased? Removed? Deleted? I don’t really know how to describe it.’_

Patton accepted this information with a deep, calming breath.  
 _‘What do you think Remus plans to do?’_ he asked.  
The dread he felt from Roman echoed his own.  
 _‘I’m not completely sure,’_ the prince started tentatively. _‘There’s a good chance he’s trying to eliminate a piece of himself so he… ‘doesn’t upset anyone’. Or…”  
_ A rush of nausea hit Patton, but it didn’t belong to him  
 _‘Or,’_ Roman forced onwards, _‘he might try and jump in himself.’  
_ Patton blanched.  
 _‘I don’t know his state of mind,’_ Roman rushed. _‘I could be wrong, but… oh, you saw him, Patton!’  
_ Patton had. Patton had seen Remus on his knees before them all, begging them to _do it!_  
He scrunched his face tight and tried to stay calm.  
 _‘We’ll get there,’_ he promised. _‘We’ll get there in time.’_

Roman didn’t reply for a moment, but Patton could tell he appreciated his confidence.  
 _‘I’m… I’m going to go back into my own head now,’_ Roman said after a minute. _‘This… took a lot more out of me than I thought.’  
‘Thank you for doing it anyway, Roman,’_ Patton smiled, trying to make sure his appreciation was strong enough for Roman to feel. _‘It was very helpful. Look after yourself, your highness.’_  
A warmth flooded through Patton’s chest from Roman, which grew as Patton added the honorific, and Roman quickly withdrew before any other emotions could slip.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton runs. Remus and him talk.

The mountain loomed overhead. The only way to distinguish it from the dark sky around it was the imposing silhouette that would be highlighted with every lightning flash.

Patton felt sick. Like, sick-because-dread-was-turning-his-stomach-on-itself sort of sick. Roman shouted something, something Patton couldn’t hear, and the steeds began to descend, wings straining in the turbulent air.   
They swooped low, aiming for something on the mountain side. It was too dark for Patton to see what. He clung tightly to the reins, and he couldn’t bear opening his eyes, because it _looked like they were going to crash into the mountainside_.  
He might’ve been screaming. He wasn’t sure. He felt Roman touch his mind, and the exhaustion that the prince tried to hold back made Patton’s voice die in his throat.  
 _‘It’s okay, Pat,’_ Roman rasped. _‘There’s a cave. We aren’t going to crash.’_  
And with that, the prince withdrew again.

True to his word, the thestrals swooped into a wide cave entrance, coming to a clattering halt on the worn stone. Patton felt the creature beneath him lurch and stumble, and Roman leapt off his steed, catching the thestral’s… head, Patton assumed, and pressing his lips to what might’ve been her forehead.   
Patton wanted to get off, but oh, the ground was so far away, and he couldn’t see anything.   
“I’m sorry,” he warbled, throat sore from the embarrassingly large amount of screaming he’d been doing. “C-can you help me?”  
Roman immediately rushed over, tripping over his own feet, and reached up for Patton, who trusted the prince to catch him. They both stumbled, cold and stiff and sore, but Patton in far better shape than Roman. Roman moved to Patton’s steed, giving them a kiss on the forehead as well.  
“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “This was a difficult flight, and you carried us well. Rest, now.”

Patton looked into the depth of the cave, and noticed that it was glowing red further in.   
“It’s a volcano,” Roman reminded him, unprompted. “Let’s get going.”  
Patton supported Roman most of the way. They tried to hurry, but Roman kept having to stop.  
“Here,” Patton said, and he lifted Roman up onto a boulder, before ferrying him into a piggyback ride.   
“Pat!” Roman protested.  
“What?” Patton asked, hitching the prince higher. “I’m in better shape than you right now. Let’s move!”

Patton was jogging; the weight of Roman on his own tired body wasn’t insignificant, but he had bigger things to worry about.   
Like Remus.  
Roman called out, hoping to reach his brother’s ears in time., but they couldn’t hear much other than the scuffing of Patton’s tired feet and the rasp of his increasingly laboured breathing.  
Roman sucked in a huge breath and _yelled._  
“Remus!”  
As Patton paused for breath, the dying echoes of his footsteps cleared the air enough to hear a hesitant reply. It was so quiet it was unclear what had been said, but it _was_ a reply.  
Roman tapped Patton’s shoulder.   
“Put me down,” Roman urged. “I’ll catch up. Go to him!”  
Patton hesitated for a moment, before gently setting Roman down on a rock, making sure the prince wasn’t going to topple over, before taking a couple steadying breaths, and running into the mountain’s maw further yet.

* * *

Remus stopped dead still, staring at the cave entrance with wide eyes, a flutter of forbidden hope kicking in his chest.   
When no more sound reached his ears, he couldn’t help but wilt.  
“I’m hearing things,” he muttered to himself, trying not to feel depressed about that. He knew no one was going to come for him.   
He began to trudge towards the edge, shame rising high on his cheeks, in his throat. It would be okay after this. This would fix it all.

There was a growing pattering sound. A rhythmic thudding. Remus slowed to a halt, trying to will himself to keep going, but…  
Those sounded like footsteps.  
And-  
 _“Remus!”_  
Was that… _Patton?!_

Remus couldn’t help it. He jolted around like he’d been stung, in time to see Patton sprinting out of the tunnel into the lava chamber, slowing a little bit in panic-filled awe at the sight of the place, before fixating on him.  
“Remus, wait!”   
Remus couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t _breathe._ Patton. _Patton_ was here. He’d come for him.   
_Patton had-!_

Patton all but barrelled straight into him, clinging to him tightly and gasping for air.   
“Oh my god,” he panted. “Am I too late? I’m so sorry, we came as fast as we could, oh my _god_ Remus.”  
Remus’ mouth opened and closed uselessly, unable to find the words to channel the churning in his chest. He dropped his sketchbook. It fell to the ground with a clatter that made them both flinch, but Patton kept talking, pulling the duke in closer and letting Remus hide his face in Patton’s shoulder.  
“Roman’s here, he’s just… tired, he’s on his way. But oh, I’m _so_ sorry, Remus, let’s get you away from the edge, okay? You’re not hurting yourself, not on my watch,” Patton continued, walking Remus away almost like a clunky waltz.  
“Why…?”  
“Because you don’t deserve to hurt,” Patton said firmly, his hand going to Remus’ hair and steel in his voice. “You don’t deserve to die, and you deserve to be heard. And I’m listening now, Remus. I’m _here.”_  
Remus collapsed forward into Patton’s shoulder and started sobbing.

* * *

Roman joined them a few minutes later, and he all but collapsed against Patton, panting hard, before pulling Remus into a hug of his own.  
Remus clung back.  
“I was so scared,” Roman murmured, voice wobbly.  
“I didn’t know what to do,” Remus mumbled back. “I just didn’t…”  
Roman tightened the hug, and went to step back before his knees gave out, and Remus and Patton caught them between them.   
“I’m sorry,” the prince wheezed. “I just can’t… I’m tired.”  
“I can imagine,” Patton hummed. “It was a long ride.”

They ferried Roman over the fire and laid him down on Remus’ bedroll. The moment Roman’s head touched the pillow, he was out like a light. Remus stared in shock for a moment, pausing in his act of pulling up a blanket over his brother. If Roman was _that_ tired… then he’d really pushed to get here. To get to _him._

Remus turned and scooped up his sketchbook from where it’d fallen as Patton spread a blanket over his brother. He opened it, and turned to the page with his heart in his throat. The Patton drawing that had been his comfort was smiling its usual gentle smile, before its eyes moved, fixing on him, and it smile widened, and it winked at him.   
And that was enough for Remus.   
he brushed his fingertips over the drawing in silent thanks, before closing the book and retreating to the campsite to join the others.

Patton sat next to him, silent but not uncomfortable, but Remus could see his head nodding into his chest every so often, and a few sleepy blinks that the effort of keeping his eyes open seemed so great.  
“You can sleep,” Remus said softly. “You’ve been in the air for a while.”  
Patton snorted a soft little laugh.  
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It was a nice trip, though. …Apart from that last bit. The wind… oh man, it was scary. And I couldn’t see my ride! Guess you could say I was flying _blind_.”  
Remus cracked a smile at that, before he did a double take.  
“You… couldn’t see it?”  
Patton nodded, and smothered a yawn.  
“Well, the first leg of it, we went to Roman’s side, and flew on these _beautiful_ pegasuses… pegasi? Roman called them pegasi. And they flew us to your town.”  
“Oh,” Remus said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “No one else has really… _been_ to my town before.”  
“Well,” Patton smiled. “It was getting dark when we got there, but I thought it looked lovely. And… did you create all your villagers?”  
Remus nodded hesitantly, not trusting his tongue.  
“They’re cool,” Patton said, picking at the sleeve of his sweater with a little smile. “And… Jerry, I think it was? He was really nice to us.”  
That brought a little smile to Remus’ face.   
“And he gave us thestrals,” Patton continued, “because the poor pegasi were too tired. And the thestrals did so well, it was so stormy out.”  
“Oh gosh,” Remus hummed. “That’s a…” he frowned. “That’s a _really_ long time in the air you guys spent.”  
“We wanted to get to you as fast as we could,” Patton shrugged. “Roman said he knew you were in the Imagination but he didn’t know where. We were hoping to catch you at your town, but we missed you, by a fair amount I think.”  
Patton looked down at his hands. Remus shifted and searched for the right thing to say.  
“I’m sorry,” Patton said. “I… it all went so wrong so quickly.”  
“Things tend to, when I’m around,” Remus chuckled. “Don’t you worry, Patsy.”  
“No,” Patton countered firmly. “No, that’s a lie.”  
“Is it, though?”  
Patton shook his head, before seeming to hesitate, and then he made up his mind with a sharp nod. Remus watched, wide-eyed, as Patton clambered over towards him and plopped himself down _beside_ Remus, before turning and _hugging him tight._  
“I’m _sorry,”_ he whispered, voice thick with emotion, “that I made it so inhospitable for you that you were terrified to speak your mind.”  
“I’m sorry you ever found out,” Remus replied with a tired shake of his head. “I know it’s gotta be uncomfortable, ey?”  
Patton went to deny it.  
“Patton,” Remus said, putting his finger to Patton’s lips to silence him. “You can be honest. You don’t have to be kind all the time. You didn’t like me before. Me having a breakdown _shouldn’t_ change it.”  
“It’s not _fair,_ though,” Patton pushed. “On you.”  
“And forcing you to like me just because I’m sad isn’t fair on _you,”_ Remus retorted.   
Patton flinched, before gasping for air like Remus had physically hit him. He started to shake. Remus guessed with a wince that he’d hit the heart of the problem.

“Look,” Remus said with a sigh, shuffling them back so Remus’ back rested against the wall, before guiding Patton down so his head was cradled in the Duke’s lap. “This’ll be easier to talk about in the morning. It’s no help to try and talk about bad thoughts when you’re tired. It just makes them worse.”  
Patton had tensed up the moment his head hit Remus’ thighs.  
“Oh,” Remus rushed. “Oh, is this…? Is this not a friend thing? Logan did it for me, a-and it was nice. If you just want to sleep normally, that’s-,”  
“Oh… it’s all good,” Patton insisted, relaxing and looking up at Remus. He seemed reassured by Remus’ question of friend-ness of this gesture. “I just… didn’t expect it. …It is a very Logan thing to do, actually. I think he likes playing with people’s hair.”  
Remus smiled sadly, remembering Logan’s hands playing with his own locks.  
“I think Logan likes being needed, too,” he hummed. “And in a situation like this, you’re providing a lot of physical comfort. It’s nice.”  
Patton stared into space for a moment, absorbing this information, before he tried to wipe the look of distress off his face with a wobbly smile.  
“When we get back,” he said. “We should have, like, a movie night, but for Logan, with documentaries and stuff. I can make jam tarts with Crofters in them, I did them once for his birthday a few years ago and he really liked them, though he hasn’t asked for them again, so I wasn’t _sure?_ But he’s… he’s _needed_ , you know? And he’s loved. He’s great! Logan is amazing, I lose track of the others’ emotions sometimes but we can-!”  
Patton cut himself off with a squeak as he felt Remus’ hand in his hair.  
“It’s okay,” Remus said softly. “Yeah, that all sounds great, Specs’ll love it. But that’s tomorrow’s issue. Get some sleep, Patton, you’re exhausted.”  
Patton opened his mouth, and Remus could feel him shaking, before he sighed, and rolled over onto his side again.   
“You’re right,” he mumbled. “Goodnight, Remus.”

“G’night,” Remus hummed back, summoning blankets. As Patton drifted off, Remus gently surrounded him in a nest of blankets, until Patton was asleep and his face was relaxed and easy. Remus looked down at him with a soft smile brushing back his hair, carefully extracting his glasses and setting them aside. He looked over across the fire to see Roman’s sleeping face, and in this moment in time, Remus felt so incurably _happy_ , almost _at peace_ , and it was easy to smile, close his eyes, and slip off into the comforting embrace of sleep himself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make their way home. Everyone is in oddly good spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro u have no idea the amount of times i went to post this chapter and then just.... didnt.
> 
> like i dont have a reason id get distracted or nervous it's just not a v interesting chapter idk  
> ive caught up w/ myself and now i actually have to write more content ive used up my stockpile so forgive me if this takes ages  
> there's only like another week or 2 of uni left so then i can write more
> 
> also as of this chapter, this fic is officially the longest thing ive ever actually posted, now overtaking my secret santa project so that's kinda neat

The voyage back was… pleasant, actually. Remus was flanked by Patton and Roman as they left the mountain, and when Remus stepped out into the fresh air, he took a deep breath, and smiled.  
He paused, and stuck two fingers in his mouth, and _whistled._

The others winced, but there was the thudding of wings-on-air, and through the cloud layer, three thestrals burst, swooping down with a series of happy noises.  
Remus laughed as they glided downwards, circling them, before landing before them.

The thestrals, fronted by his steed, Sapphire, all bowed deeply to him. He bowed back.  
“Clever girl,” he hummed again, immediately stepping toward and hugging Sapphire’s neck. “Thank you.”  
Patton glanced at Roman.  
“Thestrals,” Roman mouthed.  
“Ah!” Patton mouthed back with a thankful smile.  
Roman mounted up with ease, but Patton fumbled blindly, for all the obvious reasons. Remus helped him up, settled him in place.  
“You good?” he asked, serious and genuine.  
“Yeah,” Patton said with a shaky smile. “C-can… is it rude to ask for a saddle?”  
“Not at all,” Roman said, and raised his hand to snap his fingers, but Remus beat him to it. Patton squeaked as a saddle appeared under him. A nice, padded, luxurious saddle, too.  
“Alright,” Remus smiled, adjusting a strap or two and handing Patton the reins. “Is this okay?”  
“Mm-hm!” Patton squeaked, red in the face. Remus patted the thestral’s nose in thanks.  
“You comfy, Ro-ro?” he asked with a pouty little smile.  
“Yep!” Roman laughed. “Get your ass on a horse and let’s get out of this place!”

* * *

The flight back to Remus’ kingdom was pleasant and easy. It seemed with both of the twins’ good moods, the air itself wished to speed them on their way, and a tailwind practically carried them the whole way back. The air was sweet and clear. The ground they soared over seemed to burst into life as they passed by. Patton spent the whole hour-and-a-bit this flight now took staring in awe at the landscape.  
After a while, he realised Remus was watching him, at least on-and-off. As they soared low over a lake, Patton tightened his grip with his knees and leant over the side of the thestral, catching the sparkling surface of the water with his fingers and a giddy laugh. It stung a little, but the effect was _awesome._  
As Onyx, his thestral, pulled back up to clear the trees, Patton reaffirmed his grip on the saddle, and turned to Remus, smiling brightly.  
“Your world is beautiful!” he called over the easy wind, which seemed to hold its breath so he could speak.  
At first, the duke looked _shocked,_ before a delightful smile started to tug at his lips, before he just gave in to it. The joy that split Remus’ face was simply one of the most amazing things Patton had ever seen.  
“I’m happy you like it!” Remus beamed. “You should see the waterfalls I made!”

They didn’t go on a tour, though. They simply went home. As the thestrals descended in wide circles into the plaza of Remus’ town, civilians came pouring out of their homes, cheering and wooping. Remus landed, looking dazed, and he raised both hands, waving back, and a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Sapphire tossed her head, and pranced around the fountain in the centre, displaying their ruler, and Remus laughed, genuinely ecstatic. Onyx and Ruby, the other thestrals, joined in the parade, with Roman beaming and giving a little wave here and there himself. Patton’s head was turning here and there, trying to take it all in in the light of day. A smile crept across his face. He caught Remus glance at him, and it seemed the creations around them redoubled their revels.  
“Alright, girl,” Remus cooed, patting Sapphire’s neck firmly. “That’s enough for now.”

The thestrals trotted in single file through the crowd towards the stables, and Remus’ creations split to make a path for them, all bowing deeply. Remus called quiet thanks to them as they passed, and they withdrew with smiles.  
As they were carried into the stables, Remus all but leapt from the saddle and threw his arms around Jerry.  
Without question, Jerry wrapped his four arms around the duke in return. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.  
But Remus pulled back, blinking furiously, and turned to help Patton down.  
“Oh, Jerry?” Roman asked, as he swung himself down. “How are my pegasi doing?”  
“Well, sir,” Jerry said warmly, bowing deeply, to Roman as he asked. “They’re very social, it seems. They’ve been getting along well with the other steeds here.”  
Roman laughed at that, but Remus glanced between them in bewilderment.  
“We met Jerry when we dropped in before, looking for you,” Patton explained quietly with a wink. “He pointed us in the right direction.”  
Remus snorted a little laugh, before looping his arm through Patton’s and watching Roman dart down to go see his creations.

The pegasi hopped from hoof to hoof excitedly as Roman approached, nuzzling into his arms and licking his face, making Roman giggle.  
“They’re _very_ friendly, sir,” Jerry commented with a laugh. “I think they’ve bonded with about everything in here. I’ve never seen something so full of love before.”  
Something sad glittered in Remus’ eye, but it was gone before one blink and the next.  
“Alright,” Roman laughed, batting his creations away from his face playfully. “I think it’s about time you two should go home.”  
The pegasi did the horse equivalent of pouting at the prince, which made him fight down a snort of laughter.  
“You must’ve spoiled them!” Roman called to Jerry. Jerry scratched the back of his head with a sheepish shrug.  
“And they deserve it, they’ve done so _good_ , haven’t you?” Roman turned back to them. “But you should really go home. Won’t Sylvia be worried?”  
The pegasi glanced each other, before _sighing_.  
“I know, I know,” Roman hummed sympathetically, before grinning. “Would you do it for… a golden apple?”  
With a flick of his wrists, he had two in his hands, and the horses’ eyes lit up and they nickered excitedly.  
“Here,” Jerry rushed forward as Roman went to open their pens. “Allow me, your highness.”

Roman coaxed them out into the plaza, cooing at them like he was trying to herd cats, and the pegasi pranced around him playfully.  
Patton watched with a smile.  
“That’s cute,” he commented to Remus. “They’re like big puppies!”  
“Mm,” Remus nodded idly.  
“You okay?” Patton inquired, leaning forward a little to catch Remus’ eyes.  
“Me? Oh, yeah,” Remus floundered. “Just thinking.”  
“What about?”  
Remus’ smile dropped a little, and he turned back to watch Roman playing with his pegasi, drawing a small crowd with their antics, before he finally relinquished the apples, and started writing a note, using Aurea’s mighty shoulder to lean the parchment on.  
“One of the things about our parts of the Imagination,” Remus started hesitantly, “is that the way our creations treat us is… very personal.”  
“Okay…?” Patton agreed, confused.  
“It’s not conscious,” Remus quickly added, rubbing his arms like a chill had just set in. “But, it seems that we create here what we receive the least of out there.”  
On the ‘out there’ he jerked his head towards the door that lead back to the mindscape.  
“I don’t like to think about it too much,” Remus continued as they watched Roman weave a ribbon out of thin air and use it to tie the message around Arget’s neck. “But I think it speaks a lot about the two of us.”  
“What do you want?” Patton asked quietly.  
“I…” Remus shivered. “I get respect, here, no matter what I do. It’s… _glorious._ But… well, I’ve not really been on Roman’s side much, but-”  
“Love,” Patton interrupted, wide eyed, a hand going to his mouth. “And belonging.”  
Remus blinked at him.  
“When we first entered,” Patton tried to explain, “the sense of… of _home_ was so strong I didn’t want to leave. Everyone we interacted with was so happy, so touchy-feely, so open with their love, and…”  
Remus nodded sadly.  
“I suspected it was something like that,” he hummed.  
“I haven’t shaken that feeling yet,” Patton said, raising an eyebrow. “The belonging.”  
“Roman’s not the only lonely one,” Remus laughed quietly, in a sad sort of way.  
“Oh,” Patton studied the ground. “…We need to do something about that, don’t we? I want to say that I love being around the others, but we seem to be at each other’s throats so often, it’s… _exhausting_. And you guys have an outlet, of sorts. I…” Patton rubbed his arms. “I think I’ve got a lot to think about, and a lot to talk to others about, like Logan. And Deceit. And Virgil. …And Roman.”  
Patton’s lips quirked into a little smile.  
“And you, of course,” he added. “We didn’t… _talk._ ”  
Remus looked away, trying to fight down his blush.  
“And before you say anything, we _do_ need to,” Patton insisted, and hesitantly, he reached out and took Remus’ hand.  
“You’re right,” Remus nodded, trying not to feel too giddy at the sensation of Patton’s hand in his. But by their feet, flowers forced their way out between the cobblestones and bloomed.  
Patton looked down, and laughed. Remus covered his face with his free hand as he went even redder.  
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, trying to tamp those feelings down into a little box and shove it into the back of his mind.  
“Hey, it’s okay!” Patton laughed, covering Remus’ hand with his other. “Feel giddy. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Let yourself feel good. I want to help you feel happy.”  
Remus let his hand fall from his face, looking at Patton softly, and trying to regulate the tenderness that was rising in his throat, and utterly failing.  
“It…” he stammered, looking down at his hand clasped in Patton’s, and he had the urge to add his own, but stopped himself. “You already do, Patton.”

A clatter of feathers made the two of them jump, and Remus scowled as he realised there were two white doves circling around their heads, with Roman whistling in the background.  
“Oh, shut it!” Remus shouted, pulling his hand back from Patton’s grip and cupping his hands around his mouth, not missing how Patton had tensed as he realised the symbolism of that. Patton tried to laugh, but Remus could hear the discomfort in his voice.  
Remus shot a quick glance at Patton, before launching into a run, straight at Roman, who’s face dropped comically, and he tried to dodge, but Remus landed a mighty tackle, sending both prince and duke into the dirt with an undignified squawk.  
Patton laughed, this time open and amused as the two brothers rolled around on the cobbles, Roman shrieking as his princely outfit got all muddy and Remus cackling with glee.  
“This is _silk!”_ Roman bellowed, flipping the wrestle and pinning Remus down. “It’s going to take me for- _ever_ to even attempt to get the stains out!”  
“You have the power of the whole Imagination at your control, and you do _laundry?”_ Remus shot back, trying to shimmy out of his grasp.  
“Uh, _yeah!”_ Roman goaded. “Because if I ever faint from overexertion, I want to still have _clothes.”_  
Remus cracked up laughing at that, giving up fighting for control and simply fighting for breath as he all but cackled. Roman cracked a smile as well, before rolling off his brother and lying on the cobbles beside him, staring up at the beautifully overcast sky.

They lay there for a moment, the only sounds were them trying to recover their breath, and the pleasant whisper of the breeze.  
“Ro?” Remus whispered, tone hushed and private.  
“Yeah, Re?” Roman whispered back.  
“Thanks,” Remus mumbled. “For… For coming to get me.”  
“Of course,” Roman said immediately. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”  
“I just…” Remus choked out, feeling himself tearing up and sitting up to try and control himself better. “I just didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone.”  
“I did,” Roman said firmly, sitting up too. “So there you go. We notice you, Re. And you’re worth noticing, alright? I like having a brother.”  
Remus couldn’t control the weak smile that bled across his face, and he patted Roman on the knee fondly.  
“And so do I,” he added. “Remember that, okay?”  
Roman smiled at that; a genuine, small, tired smile; before he hauled himself to his feet and offered Remus a hand up too.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Virgil talk. It's long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elriuasdhgd sorry for taking so long!!!!! i dont know what's going on with my life anymore and it's like the last week of uni and im stressed out bro. so much is due in the next five days and i dsfjadjgdsflgsdghg take this emotion field trip instead.

Roman and Patton lead Remus downstairs, each holding one of the Duke’s hands, and never before had Remus felt so small. He hoped Patton wasn’t gauging his emotions right now, because the only word he had was _giddy_. He knew that darkness was going to come back – it always did. But for now, he was just so happy to be safe, to be saved.

As they descended, a lump on the couch moved, raising its head, and Remus and Virgil made slow and painful eye contact.   
As Remus’ heart lurched in his chest, Patton and Roman both squeezed his hands comfortingly. Virgil looked at him long and hard, and that happiness bled away as quickly as it had come. Remus took a breath, and gently shook his hands free of their friendly confines, because he was getting too nervous and he needed to pick at something or he’d lose his marbles. He found the hem of his jacket, and started picking and fiddling as he pushed past the others and stopped close-to-being-almost-in-front-of Virgil.

“Heya,” Remus offered.  
Virgil stared at him for an extra, silent moment, before he swallowed hard.  
“Hi,” he replied. “Hi, Remus.”  
The sound of his name, his _name_ so soft on Virgil’s tongue was what gave Remus pause. Virgil hadn’t spoken to him like this in so long, he’d almost forgotten there was a time where they’d liked each other. Remus tried not to stare, tried not to overthink, but as usual with his racing thoughts, it was useless to try and stop.   
“You used my name,” he blurted.  
There were quiet sounds of confusion behind him, but all that mattered was Virgil ducking his head.  
“Yeah,” Virgil hummed, and he was picking at his hoodie cuffs too. “I… Rems, I’m sorry.”

 _Nickname._   
Remus found himself fumbling for a seat as one thought and only one thought started pinging around in his skull.  
 _Nickname.  
Nickname?!  
Nickname!!  
Virgil used his nickname!!!_

Remus couldn’t gather his thoughts. He realised the others were probably looking at him, asking him questions, wondering where he’d gone (so’s to speak) but he couldn’t find the mental path to redirect himself back into the moment. …Nickname. Virgil had used his old nickname. He… what? Nickname. His nickname. The nickname Virgil used for him. Virgil’s old nickname specifically for Remus. His _nickname_.   
Something pressed against Remus’ mouth – it took him a long and thoroughly detached moment to realise it was his own hand as he tried to gulp down air. His ears were ringing. It was so quiet and too loud at the same time. Was he supposed to be looking at something? It just looked like blur. But Virgil used his nickname.

A cold hand tentatively touched his wrist, fingers looping around it and tugging his hand away from his mouth, and… that cold hand was familiar. Only Virgil was that cold all the time.   
“Don’t let go,” someone said, but it sounded garbled and distant.   
Oh, that was probably Remus, now he thought of it.  
“Rems, can you hear me?” someone asked him, and the cold hand adjusted its hold, linking their arms more securely in a palm-to-wrist grip that Remus latched onto like a drowning man.  
“Cold,” he mumbled. “You’re cold.”  
“Sorry.”  
“No. S’good,” Remus hastened, and he was frustrated, through this daze, that he couldn’t explain himself. The cold was familiar. He could follow the cold back up to where his mind was supposed to be right now. “Cold good.”  
Why couldn’t he use his words? Something like this hadn’t happened for a long time, he was floundering through hazy memories for how he was supposed to resolve this, but he couldn’t…. he couldn’t… couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All he had to go off was ‘cold good,’ and-  
A second cold hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face upwards, and the cold jolted him, kickstarted his thoughts and Remus shuddered from head to toe as he finally took in the gasp of air that cleared his mind, and he blinked the unseeingness away from his eyes to meet Virgil’s gaze.

Virgil was still concerned, but relief bled into his eyes as soon as the life came back to Remus’ face.   
“You here, Rems?”   
Remus blinked furiously a few times, before a smile crept across his face.  
“I’m here, Virge,” he said back, raising his other hand to the one still on his cheek, and he loosely grabbed his wrist, as if to prove to himself that Virgil was actually so close, _Virgil_ was actually touching him. “Sorry.”  
“No apologies,” Virgil murmured, and he patted Remus’ cheek in a friendly manner, before withdrawing a little, but he didn’t move to let go of their joined hands. Remus shivered again, looking between the hand with the chipped-and-chewed black nail polish that was firmly and groundingly latched onto his wrist, and as Virgil started rubbing his thumb soothingly across the underbelly of his arm, Remus couldn’t help the sharp breath he sucked in.  
“Is this okay?” Virgil murmured, eyes flicking up to Remus’ face.  
“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “Yeah, it’s more than okay.”

As Remus’ thoughts began to sort themselves out again, he realised the others were probably still looking at them, and he snapped around, but found to his surprise that Roman had moved on to sitting at the dining table, tapping away at a laptop, probably writing, and Patton was bustling around the kitchen with a couple mugs in hand.  
“No one’s staring,” Virgil murmured. “We got as much time as we need.”  
Remus turned back to Virgil with a shaky smile.  
“No amount of time is going to make up for what I’ve done,” he said thickly. “But saying that, I do want to try.”  
Virgil adjusted his grip a little, before shaking his head.   
“When you say ‘what you’ve done,’” he queried in a hesitant voice, “what do you think you’ve done? Like, you think you’ve hurt me?”  
Remus frowned.  
“Haven’t I?”   
Remus’ tone caught them both off-guard, what with how close to broken it sounded. Remus tried to laugh it off, but Virgil’s grip tightened momentarily, not in punishment, but in support.  
“Nah,” he said. “And even if you did, it was so long ago, before we knew each other properly. You remember you were the first one to adjust to look after me, yeah?”  
“You were looking after _me,”_ Remus shot back. “You were like a brother to me, Virge. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never have.”  
Somewhere in the background, there was a sharp intake of air, but Remus put it out of mind.  
Virgil shook his head fondly.  
“A-and I know I still did,” Remus started to ramble, and he ran his spare hand through his hair. “Like… I know I got carried away and scary and mean, and-”  
“And so did I,” Virgil cut him off softly.   
Remus eyes locked back onto Virgil with a vulnerability he hated showing but couldn’t control. He couldn’t find any words to refute that, to reply, to do anything.   
Virgil smiled, thin and tired, but it dropped into something more serious in a heartbeat.  
“Rems,” he said. “You… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve pulled, recently and over the years. I’m sorry for being mean, and I’m sorry for being scared, and-”  
“You don’t have to apologise for being _scared,”_ Remus butted in. “Intrusive thoughts and anxiety are a _terrible_ combination on a bad day. You, out of everyone, have the most right to avoid me.”  
Something heavy lifted in Virgil’s eyes at that.  
“Still feel bad, though,” he muttered none the less.  
“Sometimes, you just do,” Remus shrugged. “And… and that’s okay, y’know?”

Virgil looked at him, like he was re-evaluating him.   
“You got wise,” he pointed out. “About all this stuff.”  
Remus started to rub his thumb across Virgil’s inner wrist too, the fabric of his hoodie soft and soothing.   
“I…” he fumbled, before shrugging. “I’ve learnt a lot, in a very short space of time, Virge. About people. And about me.”  
Virgil nodded at that, but he still seemed melancholy.   
They sat there in silence, and it seemed there were so many questions that Remus was fumbling for, but the words kept drifting away.  
Then he tightened his grip just a smidge, barely anything, but Virgil was already giving him his attention.  
“Why did you leave?” Remus blurted, before he flinched back, and clapped his free hand over his mouth as a shadow flitted over Virgil’s face. He couldn’t tell what that darkness was – anxiety, grief, fear, anger?   
“I’m sorry,” he was already babbling. “I j-just… I just, since Dee brought it up, I just… I-I, uh, look, don’t answer that. I’ll go. I’ll just go, I’m so sorry.”  
“No,” Virgil said quietly, and he put other hand on Remus’ knee to stop the duke from standing and bolting from the room. “It’s okay, Rems, I promise.”  
Remus shivered, and hunched over on himself.  
“I just…” he stammered again. “Was it me?”  
Virgil looked at him funny.  
“Did you leave because I got too much?” Remus whispered, voice disappearing as he regretted his question more and more.   
Virgil stilled for a moment, eyes roaming the room, before he settled his attention back on Remus.  
“…I can’t answer that,” he said quietly, thickly, “because… I don’t know.”

Remus looked at the ground, considering that answer, before nodding.   
“Look,” Virgil ran his free hand through his hair too, before tossing his head to get the bangs out of his eyes. “…We were different people then. Thomas was a different person. A less healthy person. And we clashed. We grated against each other so bad sometimes, it felt like we just weren’t _good_ for each other, I guess. I’m not saying I didn’t… I’m…”   
Virgil swallowed heard, before sucking in a deep breath and making himself continue.  
“I’m not saying,” he said steadily. “That I didn’t love you guys. But… I couldn’t handle it, after a while. During and after high school. It got too much, Remus. And I just needed a chance to _think._ To figure out what I was supposed to be. And honestly, me wandering in up here was an accident.”  
Virgil laughed to himself a little, but it didn’t sound very happy.  
“And, it was so weird. But I didn’t think I could go back, especially not after who I was talking to. I’d upset Dee too much.”  
“He loves you,” Remus found himself whispering, interjecting before he could rein himself in. “He still does.”  
Virgil’s breathing hitched.  
“I know,” he croaked back. “And… I’ve seen what he does to himself. I’ve seen how he punishes himself. And there was a time where a part of me agreed with that treatment.”  
Remus sighed and Virgil shook out his shoulders in a little shimmy.  
“But I know now that that’s an awful thing to think,” he said firmly. “Look, I... I don’t _know,_ Remus. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put everything I’ve felt over the years into words, least of all into a satisfying answer.”  
“That’s okay,” Remus shrugged. “That makes sense. I can live with that.”  
Virgil seemed to take a moment to click with what Remus said, his eyes (which had been fixed on the carpet) met Remus’ with warm surprise. A little smile cracked across the emo’s face, which softened the set of Remus’ shoulders at the sight.  
“You really have grown up, huh,” Virgil mused, voice so soft it left Remus wondering if he was supposed to have heard it or not.   
It'd been so long since Virgil had looked at him like that. Since he’d talked to Remus like that. Since he’d cared for Remus like that.  
“Grown up?” Remus laughed. “Yeah, it took me long enough, huh?”  
“Hey,” Virgil warned in a light tone. “Being, uh… what’s the word I want…? Juvenile, I think? Being juvenile isn’t shitty, okay? You… and other people in our, uh, our _family_ , are allowed to be a little juvenile. You know that, right?”  
Remus’ hands were shaking a little, but Virgil’s grip was so firm, it was grounding in such a familiar way that Remus honestly felt like all of a sudden, they were fifteen again.   
He pressed his lips together and decided to just nod instead, eyes growing bright.   
“You’re allowed to be _you,”_ Virgil finished. “And I’m so, _so_ sorry for any times where I’ve made you feel like you can’t be. My comfort isn’t more important than your mental health, okay?”  
“Your comfort _is_ your mental health,” Remus said with a frown. “Be careful with that mentality, okay? Don’t want a repeat of ’09.”  
Virgil, to his relief, barked with laughter and shook his head.   
“Yeah,” he smiled. “Very true. Now, you want tea? Patton said he’d make us some.”  
Remus shimmied his shoulders and smiled as fully as he could manage.  
“You know it,” he said, standing, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how Virgil was still holding his hand, even in front of the others, even as they approached the others, and he couldn’t help but skip-jump a little in joy at that. And Virgil didn’t reprimand him, just squeezed his hand and smiled at him instead, even as Patton was pressing mugs of tea into their hands and directing them to go sit with Roman.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus needs to check on Dee. Virgil comes with him. They talk.

Remus spent the rest of the day down in the commons, dicking around and generally having a good day. But every so often, a worry would creep into the forefront of his mind, and he’d find himself glancing to the stairs. By about half-past three, he stood up swiftly, almost knocking his chair over. Roman glanced at him.  
“You okay?”  
“I need to check on Dee,” Remus declared, the solidity of his tone hiding the worry in his eyes quite well. Him and Deceit, they’d been making an effort to be more present around the others (more for their own sake of mind than anyone else’s). And it’d been a full day, and Remus hadn’t seen Deceit yet. At all. And his brain was beginning to tell him why. And he just couldn’t stand it.

He stepped away from the table and tucked his chair away, Virgil cleared his throat softly.  
“You want a hand?” he offered quietly.  
Remus hesitated. Virgil’s presence would either… either fix a lot of things, or make everything way worse. It seemed that Virgil knew it too, from the conflict in his eyes.  
But part of him didn’t want to do this alone  
That was a terribly greedy and awful part of him, too. Why would he not want to check on Deceit alone? They were family. Deceit wasn’t going to hurt him.  
Virgil stood, trying to evaluate Remus’ expression.  
Deceit wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. But a misplaced emotional reaction _would_ send him spiralling. Remus smiled weakly, and gestured for Virgil to follow him. This’d be good. For all of them.

* * *

As they descended into the Dark Sides’ area, Virgil’s hand found Remus’. Remus glanced at his friend and saw Virgil looking around with wide eyes, white as a sheet, clinging to Remus with a grip that could bend metal.  
“Hey,” Remus said softly, stopping them on the stairs and taking Virgil’s hands in his. “You don’t have to come with me. You can go home if you want.”  
Virgil flinched at that. Remus stared back impassively. He wasn’t stupid. This place had not been Virgil’s home for a very long time.  
“I gotta fix it,” Virgil whispered, and it hurt to hear how his voice was shaking. “I…”  
“You’re under no obligation to break yourself for our sakes,” Remus pressed, voice low. “Though I hate to see Dee hurt, I hate to see you hurt too, Virge.”  
Virgil was shaking, but he didn’t move. He didn’t turn and return upstairs.  
“Just give me a minute,” Virgil requested, and he pushed past Remus to continue down the stairs, before he made a beeline for the couch. He sat down in his old spot, hunching over a little as he started to even out his breathing.  
Remus hovered worriedly, before kneeling beside him.  
“I’ll do it, I’ll be okay,” Virgil promised between his fingers. “Just give me a moment.”

After a few minutes, when Virgil was calm enough, Remus got up from where he’d perched and patted Virgil’s shoulder.  
“Do you want to wait out here?” he offered. “I think I can coax Deceit out.”  
Virgil looked down the hallway, where their bedrooms were, before nodding.  
“I think that’d be best,” Virgil warbled. “If… if that’s okay?”  
“Yep-a-dick-a-doodle,” Remus smiled brightly. “Wouldn’t’ve offered if it weren’t okay, pal.”  
He patted Virgil’s shoulder and from somewhere, he pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around Virgil’s lightly shaking frame.  
“It gets cold down here,” he said lightly. “Hang tight, I’ll be back in a minute, V.”

Remus was shaking a little too, honestly, as he put his back to Virgil and headed towards Deceit’s door. A shot of guilt laced through him; Remus had been gone for at _least_ a night, and… and Deceit wasn’t good at looking after himself sometimes. Remus shouldn’t’ve left. He shouldn’t’ve left Deceit alone. He was so goddamn selfish, wasn’t he?  
That was besides the point. Besides the point. Remus was in front of Deceit’s yellow door, and he shook out his hands and cleared his throat, more to gather his thoughts than anything.  
Then he raised his fist and rapped on the door.

It was a random, odd rhythm. Remus let it hang in the air, before he plastered a smile on his face – getting into character, if you would – and knocked again.  
“Hey, Dodie Snark,” he called. “I… I’m home. Sorry for being gone so long.”  
Something shifted behind the door. Remus heard the sound of fabric rubbing together, before silence again.  
“I had some stuff to think about,” Remus continued. “But I’ve done lots of thinking. And I… I wanted to check you were okay, Dee.”  
“’m just dandy,” came a mumbled call.  
“I doubt that,” Remus muttered under his breath, but didn’t try to call Deceit out directly, as it often upset him. “How’s about you come out, and I make you breakfast or something? I didn’t mean to be away for so long, I’m sorry.”  
He was sorry because when Deceit got like this, Deceit wouldn’t eat by himself. Remus had to remind him, cook for him, and Remus wasn’t _there_ this time.  
“S’not your fault,” came Deceit’s voice again, there was more shifting and shuffling noises.  
“And…” Remus rubbed his arms. “We need to talk, Dee.”  
“…I know,” Deceit’s voice was barely there.  
“And someone else is here to talk to you too,” Remus added, and his heart had crept very thoroughly into his throat. “And it’s… it’s kinda important.”  
“Who?”  
Remus shivered from head to toe.  
“If I’m perfectly honest,” he replied, “which, as you know, I do so try to be, I’m afraid that if I tell you, you won’t come out.”  
There was more shuffling, before it sounded like soft footsteps were approaching the door. Remus stepped back, because he knew Deceit hated to be crowded when he was in this sort of mood. The door opened, and there stood Deceit.

Deceit, in his oversized yellow jumper, baggy grey trousers, hands thrust deep into his pockets and his hair was tangled and greasy. He looked at Remus with a passionless, tired stare that rooted the Duke to the spot, before Deceit sighed and let his eyes close. It was clear he’d spent the whole time in bed but hardly sleeping, from the heavy bags under his eyes.  
Deceit had… he’d certainly looked worse before, was all Remus would say.  
Remus extended his hand in silent offer.  
Deceit stared at it for a moment, before withdrawing a hand from the depths of his pocket, and placing it in Remus’ carefully.  
What was weird was that Dee wasn’t wearing gloves. What was even weirder was that Dee had given up his left hand – the scaled one. It wasn’t often he was brave (or apathetic) enough to go bare-handed. Remus gently closed his fingers around Deceit’s hand, taking a shaky breath.  
“If I don’t like where this ‘talk’ is going,” Deceit asked quietly, not looking up at Remus. “Can I go back to my room?”  
Remus nodded.  
“Absolutely,” he smiled. “You ready?”

* * *

Virgil had curled in on himself, knees up to his chin, shoes kicked off, tucked into the corner of the couch where he always used to sit, and was waiting with his back to them as Remus led Deceit into the room.  
Deceit froze, his heels digging in, his nails digging into Remus’ hand. He took a step backwards.  
Remus didn’t say anything. He just turned and looked Deceit, letting the worry bubbling over in his throat to pour out his eyes, imploring Deceit to give it a chance, to try.  
Deceit was caught, paling, before he shivered thoroughly, and sighed, nodding his assent to Remus leading him closer.

They rounded the couch, and then and only then did Virgil left his head to look at them. Deceit froze up again as soon as Virgil’s eyes met his own, and it seemed everything hit him in a rush. He turned away, trying to fix his hair with his free hands and grimacing at the oiliness. He did a doubletake at his clothes, and before Remus could open his mouth, Deceit had extracted his hand and had wrapped himself in a defensive, self-conscious hug.  
No one said anything.

Virgil swallowed hard, and uncurled like a spider, before lurching to his feet. He looked up at Deceit with such poorly hidden guilt that Remus wanted to hold his hand too, comfort both of them.  
“Hey,” he said quietly.  
Deceit went to speak, but it seemed he didn’t trust himself, and simply nodded instead.  
Virgil looked away, and clutched at his elbows, scrunching his eyes closed as he searched his soul for any scraps of bravery.  
“You don’t have to,” Deceit rasped, and the others jumped at the sound of his voice. “Virgil, you owe me nothing.”  
Virgil shook his head.  
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said quietly. “Look, Dee, what I said, the other day, I…”  
He rolled his shoulders.  
“Bunch of horseshit,” he mumbled. “I was real cruel, Dee.”  
“You had to learn it from somewhere,” Deceit mumbled, and he pushed past Remus to sit on the couch, like he couldn’t bear standing anymore.  
“Deceit,” Virgil said, voice hardening.  
“What?” Deceit snapped, and he tucked his bare feet up under him and took the blanket that was left on the couch beside him, barely suppressing shivers. “I know what I’ve done. You have a life now, Virgil, and it’s wonderful. It’s everything I never knew we could wish for and I’m so happy for you.”  
“You can have it too!” Virgil blurted.

As the others looked up at him, Virgil started biting his nail polish, but he didn’t seem deterred.  
“You’re allowed to be happy,” he snapped, fighting for breath. “You’re allowed to be loved and to fight for it, you’re allowed to want to be liked. You’re allowed it, Dee! Just because I did it doesn’t mean you can’t!”  
Deceit stared openly at him. So did Remus.  
“They’ve learnt so much,” Virgil said shakily, gesturing wildly upstairs. “Those topside pricks. They’ve learnt about what’s good for Thomas. What shouldn’t be buried. Hell, they accustomed to _me_. Thomas loves _me!_ And I’m the one thing that makes him unable to sleep at night, unable to get out of bed in the morning, that makes him skip lunch if it means he has to buy it from somewhere new! They learnt to love me. And they’re willing to try with you, I know it. And the biggest obstacle has, _once again_ , been me. I let old baggage drag everyone down, and I’m _sorry.”_

Remus rubbed his face and tried not to laugh. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but a tired and overemotional one.

“It wasn’t just _your_ baggage, V!” he pointed out. “Roman and I? _Patton_ and I?”  
“Them and me,” Deceit added quietly.  
“Yeah,” Virgil shrugged. “And that clouded our judgement, on everyone’s fronts. But Thomas as grown. And we’ve grown. And we know what we’ve done wrong. And we know what to do now.”  
“Do we?” Deceit asked.  
Virgil fumbled for an answer, before shaking his head with a laugh.  
“We can figure it out,” he said, extending his hand to Deceit. “And we will. Because we deserve it.”  
Deceit reached out and took his hand, letting Virgil heave him to his feet.  
They stood there, just looking at each other for a second.  
Remus picked at the hem of his jacket and prepared to break up a fight, even though it wasn’t logical to expect it now.  
“Deceit,” Virgil said hesitantly, choking on the name, before sucking in a brave breath and correcting himself. _“Dad._ I’m sorry.”

Deceit’s face _dropped._ Open shock, awe, distrust, joy, surprise, flicking past and mixing, until Deceit all but _leapt_ forward and wrapped his arms around Virgil as he burst into tears.  
“I’m sorry too,” he gasped, a smile so wide it hurt spreading across his face as Virgil immediately hugged back, burying his head in Deceit’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I’m so _proud_ , Virgil, I… I…”  
“You don’t have to say anything,” Virgil mumbled back, voice muffled by Deceit’s jumper. “I…”

Both trailing off, they just stood there, hugging, swaying; Deceit was crying and smiling and sniffling and letting out little giggles of joy as Virgil laughed at him and just hugged back tightly.  
Remus watched in absolute delight. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t _believe it._ He never, in a hundred thousand billion trillion and seventy-two years, ever could have ever let himself believe that Virgil would come back.  
He sat down on the couch in shock as a thought hit him.

He had a family again.  
He had Dee. He had Roman back. He now had Logan. He now had Patton. And finally, _finally,_ he had Virgil back.  
“Get in here, Rems,” Virgil’s voice cut through the haze, and he looked up to see Virgil’s bright eyes over Deceit’s shoulder. Deceit quickly turned, opening his arm expectantly. Virgil reached out for him too.

Remus stared in shock.  
“Me?”  
“Is there any other Lord Duke Sir Esquire Remus Creativity McGee Sanders the First in the house?” Virgil inquired, with a grin.  
Remus choked up, pressing a hand to his mouth.  
“You _remember that?!”_  
They had been so young. Remus and Virgil were discussing the concept of names, and Remus had told his right away. Didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to. And over the week, he had added and added to it. He still had the whole thing memorised. He would’ve thought Virgil had forgotten it the next day.  
“I wasn’t about to forget that you decided your middle name was McGee,” Virgil deadpanned, but a bright smile split the sarcasm, and Remus’ older brother gestured for him to get up. “C’mon, king.”

Remus was frozen for half-a-second.

Then he leapt up with a joyful cry and tackled them, sending all three of them down onto a conveniently imagined mattress that appeared below them. He gathered them into his arms as much as he could, practically vibrating in excitement. Deceit was laughing – Deceit was happy and the shadow that had settled in his eyes for as long as Remus could remember was lifting, and Virgil was there Virgil was _right there_ and laughing along with them and he pulled them in tight and unapologetically started to weep then and there because-!

Oh. He had no more words to describe this. It was like the world had shifted. It was like the whole time, the world had been a little bit to the left, and now, it had finally clicked into place.  
They were together again.  
Everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back? back again? guess who's back? tell a friend?
> 
> it's me im back.  
> i lowkey feel guilty for not posting for a while, i've done lots of stress-writing on this fic over the past few weeks so i've got a fair amount to post. and thank y'all for the lovely comments im :') really makes a bastard's heart soar.
> 
> and this might be happiest this fic will be for a while. the stress-writing might have influenced that. i'll try and give lil' heads-ups as the start of chapters if things get.... intense? idk. bear with. I did say this was gonna be angsty.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton observes how happy his family can be. Deceit issues him a warning. Patton falls into some old habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of self-harm in this chapter, towards the end. It's not graphic but it is there. Just a heads-up.
> 
> also hi! it's been a while. gonna yeet a couple chapters up bc i feel like it lmao

The three of them had come up for dinner, and Patton was _thrilled_ to add three more to the table. He and Logan worked together to cook. Patton was an _awful_ cook, he couldn’t make complex recipes if he tried. But! He knew how to make simple things well, so he could get away with it. Logan, on the other hand, was a master chef. If cooking could be a science, Logan would probably have a doctorate in cooking; that’s how good he was. So when it came to large scale meals, it was all hands on deck for the two of them.

And from where they were, they could easily watch the four of them; Virgil, Remus, Roman and Deceit; all getting along. It made Patton emotional, he had to put his back to the room and take a few deep breaths to gather himself – he was just so _thrilled_ to see them all so happy.  
Logan found himself pausing and taking it all in.  
Quietly, he said to Patton, “You know? I never though this day would actually come.”  
Patton turned and smiled at him.  
“Yeah,” he hummed. “Me too, actually.”  
“I hope it lasts,” Logan mused as he opened the oven, missing how Patton’s smile dropped.  
“You don’t think it will?”  
“I think,” Logan said with a shrug as he moved to wash his hands, “that this is fragile, right now. And we have the power to nurture it, if we’re careful, or destroy it, if we’re not.”  
Patton glanced out across the room, at Virgil who was laughing at the twins, who were goofing off, with Deceit watching fondly from his perch on an armchair.  
They all got along so well.  
And Logan got along with everyone here so well too.  
Ice gripped at Patton’s heart. He smiled before it showed on his face. He wasn’t going to break this. He couldn’t do that to them again. For everyone’s sake. For _Thomas’_ sake. He couldn’t break this.

He and Logan finished dinner in relative silence. Logan glanced at Patton as they did, but Patton had gone from chirpy to silently stuck-in-his-own-head almost instantly.  
As they were plating up, Logan grabbed Patton’s elbow.  
“Patton,” he said softly. “I… I apologise, it was not my intention to upset you with my earlier comments.”  
Patton blinked at him.  
“Oh no,” he smiled. “You’re absolutely right, Logan. We don’t want to break what we’ve got. I’m just thinking through how I’m going to be more careful.”  
Logan’s eyes were still worried, but he patted him on the arm and let him continue carrying the plates to the table.

* * *

Patton spent the whole meal watching. Well, ‘watching’ sounded creepy. Observing, as Logan might say. Observing how comfortable Virgil looked. How open Deceit was. How smiley Remus had gotten. And Remus turned to Roman, making a joke with a marvellous double entendre that had the prince snorting and turning red, the little smile of contentment on Patton’s face began to flicker.  
He watched Logan add to it, making Remus laugh with delight, and the banter continuing.  
Thirty minutes went by, of banter and of conversation and of companionship.  
Patton didn’t say a word.  
No one noticed.

Remus and Roman had gone dashing upstairs immediately afterwards, because Roman had started to explain a story of his over tea, and soon they were bouncing ideas off each other as they disappeared upwards. Logan and Virgil ended up in a friendly debate, and they excused themselves politely before disappearing as well.

* * *

Patton stood, and just started silently clearing the table. He assumed everyone was gone, honestly. He thought everyone was accounted for. As he left the kitchen to collect the last couple glasses and forks, someone stepped in, passing them to him.  
Patton stared at the offered dishes and the yellow gloves that were offering them.  
“Oh,” he said, as brightly as he could manage. “I didn’t realise you were still here, Deceit.”

Deceit watched him closely, and Patton kickstarted himself back to life and took the dishes out of Deceit’s hands.  
“Sorry!” he chirped, before making a beeline for the sink, which had been filling with warm water, and he turned the tap off and fumbled for the dish soap.  
Deceit ambled closer, leaning on the wall and watching Patton begin to clean. Normally, he’d help. But he wanted to say something that he wasn’t sure how well Patton would take. But it was important, and it needed to be said. And if he distracted himself, he might not get around to saying it.

Patton would normally hum and sing and even dance a little while doing chores like this. But this time, he was silent, and shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Finally, he turned on his heels, his wet hands dripping soapy water on his trousers and the floor.  
“What’s up?” he asked, and Deceit was too occupied with his thoughts to see how anxious Patton was.  
“I wanted to request something from you,” Deceit said, running his thumb up the seam of the opposite glove. “About Remus.”  
Patton stilled, before turning and drying his hands on a nearby tea towel. When he was done, he rubbed his face, straightened his hair, before turning back, hands clasped.  
“Request away,” he smiled.

Deceit stood up properly, looking down at the floor.  
“I just wanted to place a…” he gestured loosely as he searched for the word he wanted, “a _warning,_ of sorts.”  
Patton closed his mouth, expression turning guarded.  
“Remus,” Deceit tried to choose his words carefully. “Is a very… starved individual. Attention starved, touch starved, affection starved. I am being blunt, of course.”  
Patton didn’t comment on any of that; he just listened with a serious expression which Deceit appreciated endlessly.  
“And Remus is the sort of person,” he continued haltingly, “who would do anything to receive those things. In any capacity. Or, if he thinks he’s ‘in the way’, he…”  
“He tries to remove the ‘hassle,’” Patton finished, air-quoting the last word even as the way Remus broke down in his arms in the volcano flashed in his mind’s eye, the duke’s sobs still haunting him.  
“Yes,” Deceit nodded, a well-veiled sadness in his mismatched eyes that Patton couldn’t keep from reading in to, but he bit his lip and gestured for Deceit to continue.  
“What I’m trying to say,” Deceit sighed, fixing his gloves again. “Is that Remus would happily bend over backwards for you, Patton. Remus would do anything for you. He would _destroy_ himself if he thought it makes you happy.”  
 _He already tried_ , Patton didn’t say.  
“I request,” Deceit finished primly, “that you take _extreme_ care not to abuse this.”  
Patton’s head shot up at that, an incredulous laugh wanting to escape him at the mere thought that he would ever consider _doing_ such a thing! But the deathly serious expression on Deceit’s face stopped those counters on his tongue.  
“I do not need you breaking any more hearts,” Deceit stated, voice crisp and on edge. “Thank you for your time, Patton.”  
“W-wait!” Patton lurched forward. “More… hearts?”  
As he queried, Deceit turned and began to stalk away.  
“Look, I promise!” Patton called. “I promise I won’t hurt him! I’d rather cut off my own right hand before I hurt him ever again.”  
Deceit paused at the foot of the stairs, before glancing back.  
“That’s good to hear,” he said softly. “Patton, I’m sure you’d understand the lengths one would go to for their charges.”  
Patton simply nodded. He’d given up so much for Logan and Roman and he’d give up so much more, even if his ‘dad’ role was thoroughly self-appointed.  
“And please know that if I hear so much as a _hint_ that you’ve been mistreating him, I will not hesitate to take action.”

The threat was clear.

Patton tucked his hands behind his back and nodded, ducking his head like a scolded teenager. He supposed Deceit wouldn’t be telling him this if Deceit wasn’t afraid. Afraid that Patton could, and would act that way. Patton was in a very interesting position right now. He had the potential to hurt a _lot_ of people.  
He squeezed his own hands painfully tight as Deceit looked at him, before turning away.

As Deceit left, Patton turned back to the sink, his back to the stairs, and stared into the suds before him.

His hands moved in old motions, motions he’d been trying not to fall into, and he topped up the sink with hot water. Very hot water. Too hot. And when that was done, he started cleaning again. The water was _too hot,_ if Patton was being frank, but that was the point. This wasn’t a fitting punishment for his carelessness, he knew, but he deserved it, even as he sucked in a sharp breath as he thrusted his hands into the water.

By the time he was done, his hands were red and sore and thoroughly scalded, and Patton looked down at them, detached, as the water drained from the sink.  
A tear splashed onto them, stinging, and Patton sighed, trying to use his shoulder to wipe his cheeks dry. He’d been doing so well, too. Hadn’t done this is months, maybe even a year or two. But that didn’t matter. It never did. _Just get on with it._

He gave his hands a couple minutes of reprieve, before moving on to drying the dishes.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan is reminded that Patton is a lot more fragile than everything thinks.

Logan ambled back downstairs an hour or two later, scrolling through an article on his phone, a rare smile on his face. Obviously, his debate had gone well. He hadn’t won, but Virgil had made a tight argument and defended it well. He was in a great mood.

He had assumed no one else was downstairs. He was thinking about taking advantage of that and his own free time to watch TV, just relax a little.   
There was a sound though, a sound that sounded like a… sniff? And Logan looked up to see Patton sitting at the dining table, avoiding Logan’s eyes and his hands positioned very carefully on the wooden surface.  
“Patton?” Logan inquired, slipping his phone into his pocket and approaching slowly. “Is everything alright?”  
“Yep! Don’t you worry, Logan,” Patton smiled, looking up, but his eyes didn’t meet Logan’s. It seemed he had fixed his eyes on the knot of the Logan’s tie. “I’m just… gathering my thoughts.”

As Logan reached the opposite side of the table, he paused, hands resting on the back of a dining chair as he observed the moral side. Patton looked away, trying to keep a smile on his face, and tried to wipe his cheeks dry with his shoulders. But the way his hands were very primly set on the table in front of him, skin bright red and aching, _reminded_ Logan of something. And it clicked.

Familiarity ripped through Logan. Familiarity and understanding. Quickly followed by a shot of indignation, then a low, thrumming sadness. Because he’d seen this before, even if it hadn’t been for quite a while. And as this all flashed across his face, Patton looked up at him, and winced.

“I know,” he croaked, flushing with shame. “I failed. I’m _sorry.”_  
“Let me help you,” Logan ordered, concern sharpening his voice. “There is no need to apologise for hurting, Patton. Let me… here, wait here.”

* * *

Logan filled a tub with water and ice, before carefully carrying it over and setting it in Patton’s lap, instructing him to submerge his hands.  
This was an old and dusty routine of theirs. Logan had found him once, or twice, then maybe a few times. Enough to realise this wasn’t an accident, and had quietly started to help Patton out of the habit of self-harming. Or, at least, helping with picking up the pieces afterwards.  
It’d been so long. Logan was _kicking himself_ for expecting it to just go away, for _forgetting_ this was something he needed to keep an eye on, because Patton had just gotten so good at hiding everything about himself that Logan had made the mistake of taking it all at face value.  
“I’m sorry,” Logan murmured as Patton tried to get comfortable. “I should have watched my tongue.”

Patton’s head snapped up, and the wobble of his lip was the only clue Logan had to the emotions Patton was masking.   
“No,” Patton shook his head. “It’s not you. I promise. And besides, you _are_ right! I’m just…”  
Logan watched him crumple.  
“There’s so much happening,” Patton whispered, and he sounded so broken all of a sudden, but Logan knew this heartbreak was nothing new. “There’s so many things I have to keep track of and say, or not say, and I’ve hurt everyone and I _am_ trying not to anymore but it’s not _working_.”  
“You haven’t hurt anyone,” Logan shook his head.  
“Don’t lie to me,” Patton laughed, and Logan flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “I… Logan, I’m scared.”  
“What about?”

Patton shifted, swirling the icy water around as he tried to find his answer.

“I am scared about Remus,” he said softly, and Patton wasn’t sure if he was imagining how Logan’s eyes seem to dull in disappointment. “I’m scared that I can’t be what he needs.”  
“It’s not about what he needs,” Logan tried to argue. “Not in full. That’s not the point of a relationship.”  
Patton really, honestly, genuinely _did_ try not to shudder at the word.  
“I don’t know what he expects,” he continued hesitantly. “But I do know that even if all I did was smile at him once a week, he’d lap it up and call it enough. I have the power to destroy him completely, Logan, and one more misstep, I might not be able to stop what he does next.”

Logan was silent for a moment, before looking up.  
“Your wording implies he’s already attempted something,” he said softly.  
Patton could only take a shuddering breath, and nod, and fumble for the explanation Logan deserved.  
“He has the capability to remove parts of himself,” Patton started. “Or… I think that’s how it works? I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. But he went to basically rip his heart out. Uh, metaphorically. To get rid of the feelings of… of _love_ and so on because he thought I hated him.”  
Patton took his hands out of the water and hid his face so Logan didn’t have to watch this appalling and unwarranted display of emotion.   
“And we managed to stop him, managed to get there in time. But I-I can’t… he’s…”  
Logan gently guided Patton’s hands back down into the water, before shuffling his chair around to Patton’s side and wrapping an arm around Patton’s shoulders.

“Deceit…” Patton swallowed hard. “Deceit asked me to look after him. Not to hurt him.”  
“Out of concern?”  
“Yeah,” Patton tried to smile. “But you know Deceit. He doesn’t ask unless he thinks it’s necessary.”  
“I don’t understand your conclusion,” Logan said softly.  
“Deceit brought it up because he thinks I can’t control myself without being reminded,” Patton whispered, tears finally sliding down his cheeks. “Deceit knows that I’m not good at not-hurting people. He said it was a warning.”  
“Deceit may have simply been trying to scare you,” Logan offered shakily. “He does like his intimidation tactics.”  
“But he’s _right,”_ Patton shook his head frantically. “I… _I…”_  
Something unsettled, right at his core, made the world flash green before his eyes. Patton gasped for air, and something that sounded like a croak ripped itself from his throat.  
He didn’t feel good.   
“Patton?”  
His head was swimming.  
“Deceit was probably being overprotective of Remus,” Logan continued, keeping his arm around Patton as Patton tried to think straight. “I do not think he was being malicious.”  
“Neither do I,” Patton pointed out.  
“I do not think he was accusing _you_ of being malicious,” Logan countered.  
“I… I don’t think that either,” Patton mumbled. “And that…”  
“You think you’ll hurt him on accident.”  
“I have done so before,” Patton shrugged. “I accidentally hurt Roman’s feels. I accidentally insulted you, and all the work you do. I accidentally shunted all the others into the ‘dark’ so’s to say, and look at the effect _that_ has had! I want to say accidentally, because I didn’t _mean_ to do it, any of it, but I still did. I don’t think malicious is the word.”  
Patton shrugged Logan’s arm off, and set the tub of water on the table.  
“I think _oblivious_ is,” he finished. “And for someone like me to be oblivious? It’s dangerous, Logan. I’m…”  
He stood, wanting to get away, even though his hands were beginning to scream in pain again. Logan rose to his feet too, an expression so mixed on his face that Patton couldn’t begin to guess at what he was feeling.

Logan pulled him into a hug.

It was firm, and tight, and solid. Patton jolted as Logan pulled him in, trying to fight back, but Logan held him so close, so strongly, Patton just couldn’t free himself.  
“You’re learning,” Logan said in a low voice, right into his ear. “It’s not easy, Patton.”  
“It _should_ be,” Patton muttered bitterly.  
“No, it shouldn’t,” Logan corrected, “because if it were easy, then we would most likely not be doing it right.”

He couldn’t stop himself from clinging back to Logan, burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how to _fix this,”_ he gasped out.   
He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this comfort. He was falling apart and he _shouldn’t be_ , he shouldn’t be the one who was falling apart here, and he _knew it_.   
“You don’t have to know,” Logan told him. “And you don’t have to do it alone, Patton. You know this, correct?”  
Patton didn’t reply.  
“Patton,” Logan said sternly, pulling back to look Patton in the eye. “You do not have to do this alone. I cannot speak for everyone, but between Roman, Virgil and I, we would be _atrocious_ family members if we… ‘left you in the lurch’, so’s to speak.”  
“Virgil and Roman have their own things to work out,” Patton mumbled, trying to pull away, but Logan didn’t end the embrace.  
“If you truly believe that you don’t have the luxury of their time anymore,” he said sadly, “which I assure you, you _do;_ know this, Patton. You have me.”

Patton’s lip wobbled.

“You’ll always have me,” Logan pressed firmly. “I know… I know I am blunt, and I am unkind, and I do not always understand, but I am always here, if you need me.”  
“I’ll always need you,” Patton sobbed, throwing his arms around Logan and trying not to cry into his shoulder and failing miserably. “You’re very to-the-point but you’re not unkind, and you always make an effort, Lo. Unkindness would be seeing me here and ignoring me, or telling me to be quiet. You are… you’re…. you’re great, Logan, and we don’t tell you enough.”  
Logan had started shaking in his arms, he wasn’t sure when that had happened.

“It’s… it’s not a matter of _need_ either,” Patton quickly corrected himself, trying to blink through his tears. “Logan, I love you, kiddo. You know that, right? And I want to be in your company because I value your time, not because you’re _useful_. I value what you have to say, even though I _know_ I’m terrible at listening, I’m so sorry.”  
Logan’s arms snaked back around him, squeezing him tight as it was Logan’s turn to bury his face in Patton’s shoulder.

“I’m trying to get better,” Patton said quietly, staring into the middle distance as he felt Logan’s breath hitch.  
“You are,” Logan whispered back. “You _are_ getting better. I hope you know that, Patton. I’ve seen how far you’ve come. It’s not been easy. And it shouldn’t be easy. You are the most stubborn part of Thomas, his emotional and moral core. A big change in you is often a life-changing experience. You don’t need to be frustrated at how long it’s taken. It’s taken you thirty years to get this far, and oh, how far you’ve come.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, hugging, but soon, Logan looked up, eyes red and cheeks damp, and Patton didn’t comment, and Logan was glad. They moved to the sofa, Logan carrying the tub of cold, cold water over, and they settled there together, watching a movie.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lol im back sorry about being gone for ages i highkey forgot that i didn't post as much as i thought
> 
> also there's some food being eaten and i tried not to describe it too much but i think it ran away from me so uhhh 
> 
> if ur squicked by food and stuff, skip from "Just come with me, I'll make you something." to "Okay," he said with as comforting a smile as he could. "Time to get some sleep, okay?"
> 
> \---
> 
> also unrelatedly ive had a personal discovery in the past week that i have been formatting my dialogue incorrectly,,, like my whole life. so uhh im gonna try and fix that starting now (i dont think i'll go back and edit tho. Or maybe I will when I'm done. idk).  
> but yea tell me if it's better ig.

The next few days were quiet, and on edge. Patton did his best to warm and welcoming and loving whilst also staying out of the way, and Logan seemed to spend extra time with Morality where he could afford it.  
Remus wondered of it, but he didn’t say anything.

Roman went to go consult Thomas on something, Remus thought it was a video idea, and came back with a expression that was a little too pleasant and a smile that was a little too wide, before he shut himself in his room, and now it was 6pm the next day, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his brother since he came back yesterday.

Deceit and Virgil had been spending more time together, trying to tentatively bridge the old gap. At one point, when Remus had been wandering down the corridor, Virgil had stormed past him, face sour and in tears, before hurrying into his room and slamming the door. Remus, in alarm, had knocked and asked if Virgil needed anything (because the old advice was to never ask what was wrong, only what he could _do_ , if he could anything, he just wanted to do anything that might help). Virgil hadn’t replied, and Remus left it alone, going downstairs and making sure Deceit had lunch with him. Two hours later, Deceit went upstairs and knocked on his door, and Remus watched him be allowed in, and he hadn’t seen either leave yet.

It felt like things were happening around him. Things were beginning to go rocky and Remus was powerless to do anything. In fact, it was quite likely that his meddling, even if it was just meddling with the status quo, was probably what brought this all around.

He thought he’d leave Dee and Virgil to it. He didn’t think that with whatever was up with Patton, his presence would help the matter. So that left one person he might actually be able to help.

* * *

He knocked on Roman’s door with a random, uneven rhythm, and waited a beat.  
“Who is it?” came Roman’s voice, strained and high, through the wood.

“It’s your brother,” Remus said. “Can I help?”

There was a pause, so long a pause that Remus almost walked away, before the door opened, and he didn’t get a proper look at Roman before he dragged the duke inside and closed the door behind them.

The room was cast in a warm half-light, purely from the lamp on Roman’s desk. And paper was _everywhere_ , strewn, screwed-up, thrown aside, piles of the stuff stacked on the floor, spread across every flat surface he had, and there was ink splots and stains, colouring-in pencils cast around the room, and Remus dragged his eyes away from the carnage to look at his brother, and he _swore._

“Roman!” he cried. “Holy shit!”

Roman flinched, and rubbed his arm, looking away. His face was hollow and creased with worry lines, the bags under his eyes dark. He was wearing loose-fitting pyjamas, and just looked so uncomfortable in his own skin.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, quiet and warbling. “I…”

Remus immediately launched himself at his brother, pulling him into a hug immediately. Roman immediately settled into the crook of his neck, slumping against Remus, a little whimper of defeat leaving him.  
“What the fuck did Thomas say to you?” Remus exclaimed, looking around in grief. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Roman snorted.

“Fine. I’ll do my best to,” Remus amended, swaying on his feet to comfort Roman. “Have you slept?”

“No,” Roman mumbled, and it was now that Remus saw the stack of about twelve coffee mugs on Roman’s desk. “I gotta… I gotta fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“My idea was too big,” Roman yawned, eyes closing, and it seemed he didn’t have the strength to open them again. “Gotta fix it. Make it good.”

“It was already good,” Remus told him firmly. “You just gotta make it different. Can I help?”

Roman shifted in his arms and hummed, before he jolted upright, like he was forcing himself not to surrender to comfort.  
“If I stop working, I’ll fall asleep,” he mumbled, trying to step back.

Remus immediately stepped back into his personal space and hugging him tightly again.  
“Oh, what a shame,” he deadpanned, sort of waltz-walking him away, to the door. “Come with me, bro. You haven’t eaten in yonks.”

“Don’t need food,” Roman muttered. “Need to work.”

“Can’t work without food,” Remus said, an argument he was used to pitching, but not used to pitching at Roman. “Just come with me, I’ll make you something.”

Remus ended up basically carrying Roman downstairs, managing to be quiet enough that they didn’t disturb Patton and Logan, who were watching some TV show on the couch, sitting close, wrapped under a blanket. Remus closed his eyes for a second as an ugly beat of envy thrummed through him, then he buried it, and helped Roman down the last couple stairs.  
“We’re gonna go sit at the table, okay?” he said to Roman, quietly.

Roman followed silently and obediently, stumbling over his own feet and gladly slumping into the dining room chair that Remus pulled out for him, resting his chin in his hand as Remus paused, making sure he wasn’t going to fall over.  
“What do you want to eat?” he asked, eyes raking over his brother’s weary face.

“The souls of the innocent,” Roman slurred out.

Remus laughed.  
“Bagel?”

Roman laughed a little too, but shook his head.  
“What about eggs on toast?” Remus offered. It was easy to make, and something he seemed to make the most for Deceit.

“Mm-hm,” Roman nodded.

“Poached or scrambled?”

“Scramble.”

“Awesome,” Remus quickly hugged him. “Try to stay awake until you eat, then you can sleep, okay? This is so you don’t pass out when you wake up, basically.”

Roman hummed something that might have been acknowledgement. Remus hurried into the kitchen and started up the stovetop, setting on toast, going through familiar motions, but stumbling a little in an unfamiliar kitchen. But within ten minutes, he was placing a plate and a cup of apple juice in front of his brother.  
He placed the cutlery in Roman’s hands, and turned away to double check he turned the stovetop off. By the time he turned back, the meal was basically gone, with Roman basically shovelling it into his mouth. He’d half-expected it, but it was a little bit of a shock to see his brother, the fancy, prissy, Roman Sanders, practically inhaling his food. Soon, Roman was draining his cup, and Remus took the dishes quickly and left it in the sink, vowing to deal with it tomorrow, as it was getting late.

“Okay,” he said with as comforting a smile as he could. “Time to get some sleep, okay?”

Roman went to say no, but his eyelids were drooping.  
“Sorry, I worded that poorly,” Remus smiled. “You’re going to get some sleep, Roman Sanders.”

“Noooo,” Roman protested limply as Remus helped him up.

“Y’all okay?”

Oh! Patton had noticed them now. In fact, so had Logan. Both bespectacled sides were looking at the twins with mirrored concern.  
Roman buried his head in Remus’ shoulder with a whine, and Remus glanced in concern to see his brother turning red with shame.  
“Hey,” he said quietly, “it’s okay, bro.”

“Is everything alright?” Logan called.

Remus started to ferry Roman closer, stopping at the space between the sofa and the stairs.  
Roman’s lip was wobbling even as he stumbled.  
“You okay, kiddo?” Patton asked earnestly, eyes wide, and he opened his arms.

Roman hesitated, before glancing at Remus. Remus smiled, and let him go, and Roman stumbled directly across to Patton and practically flopped onto the couch, slumping into Patton’s arms.  
Patton’s hand’s automatically moved around him, one pulling Roman in close as the other smoothed back his hair, and Roman’s eyes slipped closed and he slipped into sleep then and there.

* * *

They all stared at him, before Logan looked up at Remus.  
“That is not healthy,” he said. “What’s happened?”

Remus shifted on his feet.  
“Don’t really know,” he said quietly. “I hadn’t seen Roman since yesterday, when he came back from talking with Thomas. I knocked on his door half an hour ago, and his room’s a complete fucking mess, and so was he, a-and I knew he hadn’t eaten, so I made him food. And then…”

He gestured loosely at the prince now completely zonked out, head pillowed on Patton’s chest, now snoring lightly.  
Patton and Logan glanced at each other, and Remus could read the guilt from here.

“Thank you,” Patton said quietly, brushing back Roman’s hair, and smiling as the prince mumbled something in his sleep. “Thank you for looking out for him.”

Remus went to say something. Went to say something that flicked easily through his head like _oh at least someone is_ or _oh don’t worry I’m not making this a habit_ or something like that, before he realised that this was actually one of those moments where it was better _not_ to say something, so he closed his mouth, rocked on his heels, and nodded in acknowledgement.  
He turned to mount the stairs, but Patton called quietly to him.

“Aren’t you going to stay?”

Remus froze, and pivoted on his heels in surprise. He wouldn’t’ve thought he was wanted. And besides, he thought he’d try and be a good brother.  
“Roman’s room is a shitshow,” he excused himself. “I thought I’d at least try to tidy it a little for him, so he doesn’t have to look at it tomorrow.”

Patton and Logan looked at each other in surprise.

“I’d put him in bed,” Remus explained, “but currently, his bed is inaccessible.”

“I know,” Patton said with a smile. “We can put Roman in my bed, and then we can clean his room together, if you like.”

Remus blanched at the offer, not because he didn’t want it, but because he thought _Patton_ wouldn’t want to spend time with him, but here he was, offering!  
“I would also be happy to help,” Logan added. “Though I do feel my help was implied.”

Remus rubbed his neck and smiled.  
“That’d be great,” he said honestly. “I think it’s going to need three pairs of hands at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also,,,, eyyyy! 50k words!
> 
> thank yall for reading <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus, Patton, and Logan tidy Roman's room.

Turned out, Remus was right. Roman’s room _was_ a shitshow, and it _did_ need at least three pairs of hands to even make a dent. Remus was in charge or sorting papers, as he could follow Roman’s train of thought the best. Patton was carrying dirty dishes by the armful down into the kitchen, and Logan was helping clear rubbish. Every paper ball, Logan unfolded it, and they had to decide whether they should throw it out or not.   
Some of them only had a word or two scribbled out at the top, so away they went. Some, however, had intricate plans on them, old ideas (Roman had taken to dating his projects in the top right-hand corner), new ideas, and there seemed to be little theme to them. However, they poured over them, and some of them were unfolded as flat as possible and stacked back on Roman’s desk.

“We’ll put them in a rubbish bag,” Logan said as he put the rejects away, “and leave it by Roman’s door for the night, and when he has a clear head, he can decide whether or not to keep them then.”

It was getting late, stupidly so, but eventually, Roman had a floor again, and his desk had seven labelled stacks of paper on it. Everything else was cleaned up, stacked away, organised and wiped down. Remus stood back with his hands propped in the small of his back, viewing their handiwork.   
“Nicely done, everyone,” he complimented, not turning to the others just yet, and he pushed his hair out of his face. “Roman will, _hopefully,_ appreciate the fuck out of you.”

“Out of _us,”_ Logan corrected. “Or do you not want your filthy reputation to be marred?”

Remus laughed at that, waving a hand dismissively.   
“Sure sure,” he smiled, and he turned to shoot a wink at Logan, and turned to see both of them looking at him with a smile.

A _fond_ smile.  
They were both smiling at him.  
 _Patton_ was shooting him a _fond smile._

Remus turned red, and lost hold of whatever words he was going to say next. Because… _yeah_ , no, he wasn’t seeing things. That smile was directed at _him._  
Worry tipped across Logan’s face for a heartbeat, and he nearly inquired as to what was wrong, when he caught sight of just how Patton was looking at him, and wisely closed his mouth with a knowing smirk.

Patton seemed oblivious, and he glanced at Logan, trying to figure out what all the movement was for, when he realised what the sort of smile was on his friend’s face, and turned red as well.

“Well!” Remus chirped, voice high and smile forced, because he _knew_ how uncomfortable that, the whole you-must-like-Remus thing made Patton. “I’ll leave y’all to it! Goodnight!”

He marched himself out the room as quick as he could without it looking like he was actually running away.  
“Remus, wait!” Patton called, and he darted forward and caught Remus by the wrist before the duke could properly scarper.

Remus froze up, because Patton was _touching him,_ and _willingly,_ too? He… _Was this real?_   
“Remus,” Patton said, quieter, and he put his hand over Remus’ and smiled softly at him. “Thank you.”

Remus was fumbling for words, fumbling for _thought_ , mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish. Patton laughed a little at that, he _giggled_ , and the sound knocked the air out of Remus, his blush turning deeper, and he could only stare at Patton with adoration.

As something sad (almost _scared)_ ticked over in Patton’s eyes, Remus steeled himself, and looked away, burying his face in his free hand and scrunching his eyes closed, trying to breathe deep and even breaths and get his self-control back.

“Thank you for helping Roman,” Patton repeated softly, and he _even squeezed Remus’ hand_ at that. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“H-he said it was about something that Thomas said to him,” Remus forced out, making himself look back even as the flush faded. “I’d check on him tomorrow about that. He’s been going through a lot.”

_I’ve been putting him through a lot._

He lightly slapped his thigh as the thought hit him. He’d’ve done worse, normally, but Patton and Logan were literally right there. He shifted on his feet, noting with mixed feelings that Patton hadn’t let him go yet. His heart was soaring, and yet it was soaring so high that it was firmly nestled in his throat, it seemed.   
He didn’t know what to do.  
He didn’t want to make Patton uncomfortable, or upset. But he _did_ want to-  
Remus shook his head violently and bumped the heel of his palm into his forehead like it’d clear his thoughts.   
Patton searched his face, before he tugged Remus’ wrist and Remus followed without a word, eyes wide even as Patton’s arms closed around him.

_Patton was hugging him_.

He was standing there limply, trying to catch up with what was going on. Patton? Was… he was _hugging? Him?_ Him. Remus. Intrusive Thoughts.   
Patton was hugging him.   
Even though his brain hadn’t caught up, his body very much had, and his arms were looping around Patton’s back without hesitation.

Patton was warm. Tears beaded in Remus’ eyes for no reason other than just how delightfully warm Patton was. He wanted to bury his face in Patton’s neck and maybe leave a few hickies but he knew that wasn’t a good idea, but also he just wanted to bury his face in Patton’s shoulder and feel close to him, soak in the warmth.

But! He didn’t want to make Patton uncomfortable. So he swallowed down the wave of longing that hit him, and enjoyed the hug that Patton offered.   
A thought hit him, and he turned his head to gesture to Logan.

“Want to get in on this action, Nerd Chicane?” he teased, and Patton smiled, and immediately extended an arm to Logan.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Logan hurried.

“Interrupt?” Remus parroted. “Oh, hush.”

“Yeah!” Patton gestured for Logan to get in as well. “Come hug us, Logan.”

Logan relented pretty quickly, and he was steady in a way that Patton wasn’t. Patton was warm and cosy and loving, but he was almost pliant to hug. Logan was like a… a padded rock. He was nice to hold and he wasn’t moving anytime soon.

It didn’t take long for the hug to end this time. Patton yawned, wide but quiet, and Remus pulled away to check he was alright, even as Patton rubbed his eyes and smiled tiredly.

“You should go to bed,” he told Patton softly, examining his face and the bags under his eyes.

“I think there’s a prince in my bed,” Patton laughed.

“I forgot about that,” Logan snorted.

“I’ll move him back,” Remus said. “Unless, uh…”

He was just about to suggest Patton take his own bed, but he realised that… well, for one, none of the light sides had ever been in his room, and two, it’d probably give Patton nightmares.

“You could sleep here,” he changed his tune, gesturing to Roman’s now tidy bed.

“That is very true,” Logan pursed his lips. “Or I could take here, and you can have my room, Patton.”

“Oh!” Patton was turning red, and he flapped his hands. “No, guys, I don’t want to be a hassle!”

There was a _thump._ Then another, this time closer.  
Then Roman appeared in the doorway, very much still-half asleep.

“Woah!” Patton stepped forward and caught him as he tripped over his own feet. “Kiddo, you okay?”

“Had a nightmare,” Roman mumbled. “Woke up somewhere else. Gotta work.”

“You do _not_ ‘gotta work’,” Logan corrected sternly, and he had moved to help prop Roman up, and they were ferrying him to bed. “In fact, tomorrow, we will revise your work, and I will help you. Okay? Thomas might have opinions, but it’s your ideas, Roman, and it was critique, not an order. We’re going to sleep now.”

“But-!”

“Sleep,” Patton repeated, and the life was already going out of Roman, and he went down willingly, snuggling into his prepared bed with all the grace of a five-year-old; again, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Well,” Remus said quietly. “I suppose that sorts out where you’re going to sleep, Patsy.”

Patton snorted at that, but as he went to pull away, Roman’s grip on his and Logan’s wrists didn’t let up. Logan and Patton glanced at each other, each looking a little lost.

“I forget,” Logan murmured, and he leaned down to brush Roman’s hair out of his face, “that he is touch starved too.”

“Too?” Patton prompted gently.  
Logan didn’t reply.

“I’ll stay with him tonight,” he said instead. “Go sleep, Patton, Remus.”

With a snap of his fingers, Logan was in pyjamas, and he carefully started to negotiate the bedcovers.

“Are you sure?” Patton asked softly, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder and now noticing how Logan shuddered (nearly invisibly, but not completely) at the touch.

“I’m certain,” he said, and he gently bumped Patton with his hip. “Go to bed, Patton.”

Patton bit his lip as his own inadequacy really began to hit him. He didn’t see how Roman was hurting. He hadn’t noticed Logan was touch starved _as well_. And hell, he’d just realised he hadn’t seen Virgil all day. What kind of ‘dad’, self-proclaimed or otherwise, was he?  
So he smiled, patting Logan on the shoulder again one last time before turning away and trudging out the room, retreating into his own head.

As he passed, he knocked lightly on Virgil’s door and stuck his head in.  
Virgil was fast asleep. …And Deceit was too. They were cuddled together in Virgil’s bed, like the way that Patton and Virgil would after Virgil had had a bad nightmare, or a terrible day. But honestly? If anything, Virgil looked more comfortable.

Patton’s mouth dried out, and he gently closed the door behind him as he scolded himself the tears that wanted to leak out all of a sudden.

As he walked away, there was the sound of a door opening and closing again, very quietly, before hesitant pattering footsteps followed him, and as Patton was gripping his door handle, someone put a hand on his shoulder.  
Patton looked up to see Remus.  
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You okay?”

Patton’s eyes were wide and watery, and they really didn’t match the smile plastered across his face.   
“Yeah,” he said.

“Look,” Remus gestured limply at Virgil’s door. “They… they’ve been working shit out for like, a week. Dee… Dee isn’t replacing you, Patton, you know that, right?”

Patton flinched, and pulled away.  
“Sorry!” Remus backpedalled, and he took two steps back literally for good measure. “Look, I… I’m good at guessing people’s intrusive thoughts. I… I’m sorry.”

Patton rubbed his arm, and avoided Remus’ eyes.

“You’re great,” Remus blurted, and Patton didn’t look up, those tears forcing their way out as Deceit’s words rang in Patton’s ears and he was beginning to realise _just how far gone for him_ Remus was. “No, really! You’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and loving, and everything about you is perfect.”

“It’s not, though,” Patton whispered, already wanting to melt into the carpet.

“Okay, perfect is a bad word,” Remus backpedalled even more, panic touching his voice. “I’m sorry, I’m so used to thinking everyone else is ‘perfect’, it’s habit.”

Patton looked up at him with such sad eyes that Remus lurched a little on his feet, wanting to swoop in and wipe those tears away, kiss those tears awa- _no_ , just wiping the tears away, with like, a handkerchief or something, like a normal friend.

“I mean it,” he whispered, and he stayed exactly where he was, two paces away, but every part of him was _screaming_ to just hug Patton or something. “You’re… you’re really thoughtful, and you take everyone’s wellbeing so seriously, Patton. The moment you realise change needs to happen, you’re leading it.”

Patton didn’t say anything, and he found himself tearing at the hair on his temples and wishing he could slip away and scald himself or something.

Remus gave in. He rushed closer and took Patton’s hands in his, pulling them away from Patton’s hair, searching his face.   
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry it’s me. And I’m sorry that every time I apologise it makes you feel guilty. I wish I could fix this, for both of our sakes.”

“I’ll learn to love you,” Patton shook his head. “I promise I will. I’ll be everything you need.”

“Patton,” Remus begged quietly, voice thick with sudden emotion. “You don’t need to.”

“But-”

“But nothing!” Remus cut him off. “It’s your life. I’m not… Fuck, I _know_ I fucked it all up. I desperately want to tell you I can move on and live with this but I know you won’t believe me because of the fucking Death Mountain shit, but Patton, you do _not_ have to force yourself to love me. That’s not what I want. You don’t have to do a thing.”

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” Patton whimpered, tucking his chin into his chest as he cried. “I won’t forgive myself. Deceit was right all along. I’m only good at hurting people.”

Remus couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around Patton and squeezed him tight, reeling as Patton’s words landed.

“Deceit has been out of touch for years, Patton,” he said through gritted teeth. “He saw everything you did from a single angle, and saw the effects in only one way, and decided you were wrong. That’s fucked up! He doesn’t critique anyone else as hard as you, you know that, right? Virgil _up and left us_ and they’re fucking cuddling, Virgil _actually_ hurt us directly and Deceit decided to forgive him! He doesn’t _know_ you, Patton, and I think he has a grudge because of baggage, so what Deceit says isn’t the truth, it’s just _angry.”_

Patton was clinging back to him, openly crying into his shoulder, and Remus wasn’t dreaming of anything, he wasn’t thinking about doing anything, he was just totally and utterly focussed on making sure Patton was alright.

“You’re _wonderful,”_ he continued, and he had words for days. He could soliloquise about everything Patton until the final star exploded in the sky. Didn’t Patton know? _How_ could Patton not know how wonderful he was? “There’s no replacement for you. There’s no Patton substitute. You are amazing.”

“I’m broken,” Patton sobbed. “And I’m wrong.”

“So am I,” Remus replied, shoulders sagging, the passion going out of him. “So am I, Patton. But maybe, one day, we won’t be. Maybe, we will always be. But I know you deserve someone better, someone like Roman, or Logan. And that’s why I was in the dark this whole time. And that’s okay. You’ve made mistakes. Everyone, literally _ev-er-y-one_ , makes mistakes. Like… Aristotle told everyone that flies had four legs and everyone believed him! You’ve done exactly what Thomas has asked of you, whether _he_ knows it or not, and he’s just realised he’s been asking the wrong questions. That’s not all on you, Pat, okay?”

Something that sounded like… like a _croak,_ like, actually like a frog’s _ribbit_ left Patton, and a greenish tint spread down his throat, and Remus watched in alarm.  
“Are you okay?” he demanded, and he lifted a hand to Patton’s throat to check if the skin was hot, trying to figure out what was happening.

Patton flinched as Remus cupped the side of his neck, but the duke’s touch was gentle and hesitant, not at all what he expected.  
“No one else is this patient with me,” he croaked out. “When is the other shoe going to drop, Remus?”

“My shoes are already on the floor,” Remus shook his head quietly. “I’ve got nothing left to drop. Except maybe my pants.”

He immediately covered his mouth as the innuendo barrelled past his lips, eyes wide with apology, but Patton actually _snorted,_ and the green tinge faded.

“You’re actually a pretty good guy,” Patton mumbled into his shoulder, and Remus’ eyes shot open even wider at Patton’s words. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

Remus couldn’t find anything to say to that. So he just held Patton tightly, and leant their heads together.

The embrace wasn’t long enough, in Remus’ opinion. It never was. His skin was warm and tingling and _on fire_ and he was internally begging for more… but Patton was pulling away, so it had to be enough for now.   
And maybe that’d be all it was.   
Remus could live with that. Remus would live with anything for Patton.

“Patton-”

He cut himself off, because he was afraid of what he was going to say, honestly, but Patton looked at him, patient and kind and only a little bit hesitant.

“Yes?” he asked, more breath than voice.

“… Have a good night, okay?” Remus requested lamely, tears beading in his eyes. “Sweet dreams and all that.”

Patton took his hand, squeezed it once, and dropped it again.  
“You too,” he said.

_Kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him-  
_ Remus knocked himself on the cheek, light enough that it didn’t hurt but firm enough to tell himself off.  
“C-can…” he said, and then he shook his head, and turned away, beginning to walk away.

“Remus,” Patton said, semi-firm.

Remus didn’t turn back.  
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered to the air, hoping it was too quiet for Patton to hear. “Oh, please, even just on the cheek?”  
Then he turned around, smiled, and said “Nothing, don’t you worry.”

“You know I caught that, right?” Patton said, with a sad, sad smile on his face. “And… and if you want to, yes, you can.”  
There was still a level of discomfort hidden away on Patton’s face. But Remus watched him close his eyes and press his lips together, ready for anything.

Remus stepped forward, letting his feet fall loudly, deliberately, so Patton could hear. He took Patton’s face carefully in his hands, turned it to the side, and pressed a soft, and very brief, kiss into Patton’s cheek.

Patton’s eyes flickered open as he did, like he was shocked at the softness. His eyes found Remus’, liquidy and wide, and Remus just smiled, patted him on the cheek as if he _didn’t_ just give his crush a kiss, and stepped back, taking his traitorous hands and traitorous mouth with him.

“Goodnight, Patton,” he wished, the words rumbling and tumbling out of his chest like a purr.

“…Goodnight, Remus,” Patton whispered back, and it seemed he was torn, like he thought he should probably kiss him back or something. But Remus just winked at him, and turned his heel and marched himself off back down to his room.  
If the only thing he accomplished tonight was helping the people he cared about feel better, then that was the best thing he could do, and he was happy.

Patton slowly prepared for bed, but as he clambered under the covers, he found himself pressing his hand to his face, an actual blush rising to heat his cheeks as he thought about Remus.  
Remus. Passionate. Considerate. Loyal. …Endearing. _Patient._   
…Remus _believed_ in him.

In the private darkness of his own room, Patton smiled.

Maybe…? Maybe he _was_ an alright person.  
He drifted off to sleep that night with his hand pressed against the ghost of the press of Remus’ lips, the tickle of his moustache, and a tiny smile on his face.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Logan wake up. Patton and Virgil dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey howdy hey look who's crawling out of the void it's ME
> 
> thank you for the lovely lovely comments on last chapter. Last chapter was one of my favourites and the feedback was so sweet.  
> but yeah we press on! As i've been trying to write this it feels like it's been taking a different angle, but i hope it will feel natural and shit yknow?  
> but yeah imma stop talking lets read some fanfic

When Roman woke up, he cried.

He cried when he’d realised there were arms around him, when he realised his room was clean. He cried when he remembered just how kind his brother had been.

He rolled over to see whose chest he’d been pressed to all night, and blinked in surprise to see Logan there. As he sniffled as quietly as he could, Logan’s eyes flickered open, and Roman hid his face in the pillow as Logan blinked to life.

There was a moment of silence, before Logan’s arms reached for him, and pulled him in close again.  
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, seriously.

“Mm-hm,” Roman mumbled, and he rolled a little so he could bury his face in Logan’s chest rather than the pillow. “You’re warm, nerd.”

“If I’m warm, then you are a metaphorical space heater,” Logan snorted. “I always wondered how you could sleep with your room so cold, but now I see why.”

“My blood runs too hot for my own good,” Roman joked back, not lifting his face from Logan’s shirt.  
He felt Logan’s chest shift with a few breathy laughs, before it fell back into the simple rhythm of rising and falling. It was soothing. Roman closed his eyes and nearly fell back asleep.  
Then a thought hit him.

He bolted upright, twisting out of Logan’s arms as a cry of _“my project!”_ left him. But he stopped dead when he realised that his room was… _clean._ For the first time in a _long_ time.  
The floor was clear. The desk had a bunch of stacks of papers on it, but that was all that was left of the past three days’ carnage.  
“Oh,” he whispered, and the tears properly bubbled over then.

Logan sat up too, shifted so he had his back propped up against Roman’s many pillows, and guided Roman back to he sat cuddled into Logan’s side, rubbing the prince’s back comfortingly as Roman’s eyes roamed around the room in quiet shock.  
“We cleaned it,” Logan said softly. “Whilst you slept.”

“Who?”

“Patton, Remus, and I,” Logan told him. “It was Remus’ idea.”

Roman shivered at that.

“Are you cold?” Logan asked in concern, tugging the blankets back up to cover them both.

“Remus…” Roman mumbled. “He’s… he’s so _good.”_

Logan was quiet for a moment.

“I had no idea how selfless he could actually be,” Roman continued quietly, and he was shaking a little. “And that’s super shitty, because I’m his _brother_ , and I barely know him.”

“We all hardly know each other, and we live together,” Logan muttered bitterly, more to himself, but Roman sighed in agreement, tears beading in his eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry you got lumped with a shitty friend, or family, or _whatever_ we are, like me. You deserve someone who’s less… high-maintenance.”

Logan frowned, and was quiet for a moment.  
“I _deserve_ …” he echoed, like he was surprised by the statement, but rolling with Roman’s example nonetheless. “I deserve family who tries their best, who looks out for me when it matters, who I know knows me and who I know will care for me.”

Roman ducked his head.

“And you _do,_ ” Logan added quickly. “Roman, you are everything I… _deserve,_ if we use your term. That, and more.”

“I have insulted you so much,” Roman shot back. “I ridicule you far too often.”

“As do I,” Logan sighed. “I do recall, though, you claimed that this ‘banter’ of yours was “your way of showing your love”, if I am correct?”

Roman laughed at that, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm.  
“Yeah,” he huffed. “I know it’s not great, but it’s… yeah.”

“You have my time,” Logan said quietly. “As much of it as you need. I don’t know if you remember, but last night I promised you I’d help with your project. Would you still accept my help?”

Roman cast his eye over to his desk.  
“I’d love it,” he said quietly. “…Sometimes it just gets lonely in here.”

“Would you like to get started now?” Logan offered quietly.

Roman fiddled with a button on Logan’s pyjama shirt for a moment, before looking up at his friend.   
“Can we stay in bed for a little longer?” he asked, so quiet it was more breath than words. “…I didn’t know how much I wanted this.”

Logan didn’t have to ask what _this_ was, he just smiled a little, and pulled in his friend a little closer, encouraging Roman to rest his head on Logan’s chest and listen to his breathing.   
And if they both fell asleep for a little longer in this position, well, that was nobody else’s business.

* * *

Patton had started to hum to himself a little more nowadays.

He hadn’t realised it, but he hummed, he skipped a little as he made his way around the house, he did his little subconscious dances as he cleaned dishes with normal temperature water, and every so often, when no one was watching, he pressed his hand to his cheek, still feeling the ghost of lips there, and smiling. It had been, oh, a week? Maybe longer? And he could still feel the ghost of lips on his cheek, and it _still_ made him giggle and blush.

He had to admit it. He enjoyed being happy again.

He ended up dancing around in the living room in his socks today day, with his cat hoodie on rather than tied across his shoulders, jumping and jiving to whatever was on his Happy playlist, cheeks flushed with movement and joy. He was alone, but he wasn’t lonely.

As the Elvis Presley song he’d been listening to faded out, he paused to catch his breath, bending over and resting on his knees with a wheezy laugh. He hadn’t been so active in a while, but his joy made the movement worth it.   
Someone sneezed, and Patton jolted around with a vague exclamation.

Him and Virgil stared at each other.

“Bless you!” he chirped on instinct, and tried with all his might to keep a grip on his happiness. “Hey, ki-, um. Hi, Virgil! How’r’ya doing?”

If Virgil noticed his little self-correction, he didn’t say anything. He just descended down the stairs from where he’d been watching, not really looking at Patton.  
“Pretty good,” he said, and he tugged his lips into a smile. “How are you, Patton?”

Patton paused, before he smiled.  
“Not too bad,” is what he went with.

Virgil opened his mouth, when the next song cut them both off.  
Patton jolted at the sound of sirens, but Virgil stared at him in surprise.  
“You have MCR on your playlist?” he asked in quiet awe.

“This is my happy, getting-pumped playlist,” Patton shrugged with a smile. “Planetary Go! is a _bop.”_

Virgil smiled at him.

“You’re damn right,” he winked, and he reached out to Patton hesitantly. Patton stared at the offering in quiet surprise, almost reverence. “Mind if I have this dance?”

The smile that split Patton’s face was sunny. Like light beaming through the clouds after heavy rain. And he took Virgil’s hand with vigour and followed Virgil’s lead with a joyful laugh.

* * *

It left them thoroughly out of breath, and Patton moved to turn the music off after it finished, and they flopped onto the floor to try and get their breath back. They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling as their chests heaved, and Patton couldn’t help but _smile._

After a while, Virgil’s hand snaked across the space between them, searching for Patton’s, and Patton relinquished it immediately. Their joined hands rested on the carpet between them, and Patton didn’t turn to look at Virgil. He didn’t ask any questions. He just stared at the ceiling frantically blinking back a fresh wave of happy tears.

“Hey,” Virgil croaked out finally. “Pat?”

Patton didn’t turn. Not yet. But he squeezed Virgil’s hand once.  
“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Virgil said.

Patton paused for a moment, blinking up at the light fixture in surprise.  
“What for?”

“For…” Virgil’s hand went limp in his for a moment, before he squeezed back. “For being there. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Patton shook his head lovingly.

“You always deserve to have someone there for you,” he stated, his voice growing thick with emotion. “And if I can…If I can, y’know, help with that, if that’s what you need me for, as someone to fall back on? Then I’m happy.”

There was a pause. Then Virgil rolled over, onto his side, to look at Patton. After a moment, Patton did the same, so he could look at Virgil.  
He wasn’t prepared for the sadness in his dear friend’s eyes.

“You’re more than just ‘someone to fall back on’, Pat,” Virgil said firmly, though his own voice cracked with emotion too. “You… you _do_ know I… um, that I _care_ about you, right?”

Patton closed his eyes instead of replying, trying not to grimace as every doubt in his head reared up to prove Virgil wrong.

“You’re not some resource to use, or some cuddle machine, okay? You’re my… you’re my family, and I care about you.”

Patton opened his eyes, and smiled, and squeezed Virgil’s hand, but didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil told him, eyes shining with earnestness.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Patton shot back. “I’m sorry for coddling you and ridiculing you and not listening to you and making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for ever turning you away, ever splitting us up.”

“You,” Virgil said with a warble, “were the first person to fully accept me for what I am, no more and no less.”

Patton closed his eyes again with a grimace, but Virgil squeezed his hand again.  
“I mean it,” he said thickly. “When it was just Deceit and I, and then Remus, they liked me well enough, but we argued so much. Remus and I, our purposes feed each other and it can get messy pretty quick sometimes. And my job hinders Dee. We used to yell at each other so much. He used to think I was doing it on purpose. It wasn’t malicious. I was just being myself.”

Virgil closed his eyes as well, and huffed out a breath.

“No one seemed to understand that,” he forged on, because he was on a ramble now and he needed Patton to _understand_ him now _._ “No one seemed to _get_ that I wasn’t being _evil,_ or _sabotaging_ stuff on purpose. I was doing what Thomas… what I _thought_ Thomas needed. I wanted to protect him.”

“You do,” Patton said softly.

“And you…” Virgil added, and he rolled back onto his back as _tears_ escaped him. “You guys saw it.”

“We saw a whole lot,” Patton hummed. “It took a while for you to prove it, like, I-I mean, not like, _prove it,_ but just… for _us_ to understand that that’s what you meant.”

“But you _did_ it,” Virgil countered. “You actually understood. And _you_ , Patton, made me feel welcome.”

Patton sucked in a sharp breath at that.

“You told me,” Virgil rolled back to face him, eyes glittering and voice low and intense, “that we were fam-ily, Patton. I have it framed.”

Patton felt like he’d been gut-punched.

“And… I hope you remember it too, okay?” Virgil offered quietly, and he reached out with his other hand, leaning over to catch Patton’s limp one. “Because at the end of the day, no matter who I talk to and who I hang out with, you’re…”

“You don’t gotta say anything, kiddo,” Patton whispered, smiling bravely though his heart was aching.

“You… I trust you, and I _love_ you, okay?” Virgil said firmly, picking up steam. “Patton, I wouldn’t be able to cope if I knew I drove you away through actions or neglect, okay? I… I’m trying to be more open. To communicate. This is terrifying. And very hard.”

“And you’ve done a lot,” Patton nodded sympathetically. “You’ve mended a lot of cracks, Virgil, it’s very impressive. I’m proud of you.”

Virgil sighed, and suddenly he was scooting closer and burying into Patton’s arms, where Patton was more than happy to have him.

“And I mean it,” he added quietly. “Wherever all this takes you. I’ll always be here, and there’s always a Virgil-sized place in my arms.”

Virgil laughed a little, fiddling with Patton’s hand.   
“And you,” he said. “I… I just realised that I never offered the same for you, Pat. If you ever need someone to comfort you, or listen to you, or hell, just hold you? I’m here.”

Patton didn’t reply straight away, because he didn’t know how. He knew, somewhere in his brain, that if he asked his friends for such things, he’d probably receive them, but no one had ever really…. _explicitly_ told him he could.   
Why was this throwing him for a loop?  
He should say something.  
Virgil shifted, and looked up at Patton’s stunned face with concern.  
He should say something.  
He needed to say something.

Patton burst into tears instead.

Immediately, Virgil’s arms wrapped around him thoroughly, and Patton was sat up, and pulled in closer, sobbing into the crook of Virgil’s neck as his dark, strange son rubbed circles into his back and made little soothing noises.   
Eventually, Patton let Virgil lead him through some breathing exercises, shoulders hitching occasionally but in the end, slumping against Virgil, calm but exhausted.  
Virgil always ran a little cold, but it was a soothing cold, and Patton found himself leaning into it.

“I…” Virgil mumbled after they’d sat there in silence for a few moments. “I just don’t want to make the same mistakes, Pat.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Patton murmured into his hoodie, tired, but absolutely certain. “I will never kick you out. You will always be safe here.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. It was slight. Patton felt it more than he saw it.  
“Thanks,” Virgil breathed. “…Love you, Pat.”

“Love you too, ki-!”  
Patton took a sharp breath in.  
“Virgil,” he said firmly. “I love you too, Virgil.”

Virgil smiled thinly, but pulled away to look Patton in the eyes.  
“I appreciate the effort,” he said firmly. “I really do. It was just the… the ‘poor little anxious baby’ses and the… the, like, _ugh_ , how to describe it!”

His eyes roamed the room as he searched for the words.  
“The… the _uwu-_ ness of it,” he settled on. “Y’know?”

Patton snorted once, at the term, but nodded.  
“You don’t want to be coddled,” he agreed. “No, like, baby names or whatever. I’m with ya.”

“But!” Virgil held up a finger quickly. “Kiddo is alright.”

Patton’s eyes lit up, though he tried not to be too obvious.

“It is, I swear,” Virgil smiled. “I can be ‘kiddo’, if you like, but just…”

“I appreciate it,” Patton said with a wobbly smile. “Thank you for telling me. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“And I want you to be happy,” Virgil countered, before he rubbed his eyes with a jovial sigh. “Man, all this communication is great, but it seems to take a _lot_ of crying.”

Patton laughed at that, and he rubbed at his eyes under his glasses with a sigh.

“I mean it,” Virgil joked. “I think I’ve cried more these past three weeks than I have in twenty years, and that _includes_ high school.”

Patton snorted, and he shivered from head to toe, before clambering to his feet and offering a hand up to his kiddo.

“I think,” he smiled as Virgil clasped his hand firmly and heaved himself to his feet, giving Patton a quick hug as he did so, “that it’s time for some cookies. Wanna help me bake?”

“Of course,” Virgil winked. “Oatmeal raisin?”

“What a wonderful idea,” Patton agreed, linking arms with Virgil as they wandered towards the kitchen together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im adding an end of chapter note because there's one end-of-chapter note i made on the first chapter and i think ao3 keeps pushing it back onto the latest chapter and it annoys me so im seeing if this will make it go away
> 
> also if ur reading this i love u thank u for making it to chapter 27 get some sleep


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit retreats from the outside world. Remus gets the hint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop guess who just remembered this fic hasn't been updated for a while, it's me!!!
> 
> howdy how yall doing?? i had a test today and im extremely fatigued but that's alright ashfjksdfghdfg
> 
> I'll be plain. Things are beginning to go back downhill from here on in. Buckle in, babes.

All seemed to be going well in Thomas’ head, for once.

Days ticked by, with people getting along. The only issue Remus saw now was that Deceit and Patton refused to be in the same room.  
Well, honestly, that wasn’t entirely accurate.  
Patton, it seemed, was willing to try. And Remus believed him. If he was willing to let _Remus_ kiss him (which Remus hadn’t forgotten in the slightest, by-the-bye), then he was pretty sure that he would put aside his differences for long enough to sort out his and Deceit’s beef.  
But oh, if only Deceit were as willing.

Deceit was avoiding Patton like the plague, it seemed. And because of that, he was avoiding Remus too.

Remus got it; he really did. Confrontation was the worst thing that could happen in Deceit’s eyes. Especially confrontation on feelings. Because he’d been thinking about what Deceit had said, about the person he’d fallen in love with and destroyed himself for-slash-because-of. And he had a pretty good idea as to who it might have been.

Especially after Virgil managed to make peace with Patton, and they started hanging out more, like before, and Deceit had started avoiding him too.

The only person who seemed to be able to get in any range of Deceit was Roman. And Remus would watch his brother go downstairs in the evenings, under the guise of ‘checking on that slippery snake’, and only sometimes did he come back before morning.

He was glad Roman was visiting him, at least, because Remus was beginning to get worried. Long absences from Dee were never good. And his worry always seemed so senseless to the others, but Remus supposed they hadn’t actually lived with Deceit for as long as he had, and they hadn’t seen Deceit at his lowest.  
He was quietly hoping that Roman hadn’t yet either.

...He wanted to check on Deceit.   
He was actually, genuinely, losing sleep over it. He felt stupid for it but his nightmares were growing paranoid and a little violent as time ticked on. And! And! The kicker was the fact that he only slept down the hall from him. It’d be so easy in the mornings to knock on his door and offer to make breakfast, to just ask how he was going, to even just say hello.

So he tried it every morning, and he stopped getting replies pretty quick.

_“I-I…” Remus tried. “I-I’m sorry f-for letting you down.”  
“You’ve done no such thing,” Deceit reprimanded firmly. “No such thing at all. It’s not something you can control. I still love you dearly.”_

Deceit’s words were ringing in his ears more and more frequently these days. At the time, Remus had believed them whole-heartedly. He still desperately _wanted_ to believe them. He wanted to believe that Deceit wouldn’t lie to him that badly.  
But with every useless knock, Remus’ hope was slipping out the bottom of his fist like sand.

* * *

He couldn’t even look at _Patton_ , after a while.   
He still felt that wonderful _thrill_ of Patton! Patton looking at me! Patton smiling at me! Patton talking to me! Patton knowing I exist! When they were in the same room, but it was slowly twisting, twisting back into something uglier, something he recognised, something that was an old friend at this point.

Because he couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

He’d let Deceit down. He’d let his _dad_ down because he couldn’t control himself. Damn it, if Remus had just been able to keep it in his pants, for once, Deceit wouldn’t be blocking him out harder than an atheist at Christmas. Deceit wouldn’t feel the need to. Remus was hurting his oldest friend, just because he couldn’t control his fucking feelings. Well done, Remus. Well fucking done.

He found himself in his room more and more often, his thoughts getting too loud and echoing around the cobwebby corners until they drove into his skull painfully. His face was red and aching from every slap, but he needed to remind himself that all this wasn’t worth it, he didn’t deserve it, the only thing he deserved was - _  
Slap._

Still, every day, he dragged himself out of his room and made breakfast, and he left a plate beside Deceit’s door with a now-wordless knock before retreating back into his room. Some days, he heard Deceit’s door open, the gentle clatter of cutlery as Deceit picked up the meal, and then the door closing again. Some days, that sound didn’t come until Roman arrived.

Remus felt so _useless_. He needed to help Deceit, he needed to _be there for him_. But Deceit wasn’t letting him, because Deceit was disappointed in him. Because he’d let Deceit down. He was even accepting help from Roman instead. _Roman_. After all this time, Remus had thought he’d been getting good at ignoring his envy of his brother, especially more recently, but now it was rearing its ugly head, just like every bitter feeling and bad habit Remus had ever had.

He was coming to realise that he really wasn’t worth the effort of a pick-me-up, if all he was going to do was fall again.

* * *

After some time, some days, Remus had stopped counting, he trudged out of bed and knocked on Deceit’s door as he passed, calling a limp good morning as he went. He made breakfast, and left the bowl of porridge by Deceit’s door, knocking again and telling him that he’d done it, before retreating to the dining table to consume his own bowl.

Today, however, there were different footsteps that hurried down the stairs, and Remus looked up to see Virgil descending.

“Hey,” Virgil said, smiling a cautious smile.

“Hi,” Remus said dully. “Everything alright?”

“Just wanted to see if you two were still alive,” Virgil half-joked, though Remus could tell he was giving Remus a silent head-to-toe evaluation. “Hadn’t seen either of you in a while.”

Remus shrugged.  
“Didn’t mean to,” he mumbled. “Been trying to look after Dee. Go see if you can actually talk to him, why don’t you?”

He jerked his head towards Deceit’s door, before turning back to his porridge.  
Virgil lingered for a moment, before he realised the conversation was over, and he hurried off to see if he could get through to Deceit.

Remus was listening as Virgil knocked. It was a steady _rap-rap-rap._ No weird not-rhythms from Remus, nor no needless flourishes from Roman.   
He was too far away to hear if Deceit replied, but Virgil leant in towards the door and quietly said, “it’s me. Dee, you alright? Can I talk to you?”

Remus counted the seconds in his head, drumming his fingers on the table. Virgil stood there and waited.   
Remus would always wait two minutes exactly before moving from Deceit’s door. He got to ten seconds before the door opened, and Virgil was silently ushered inside.

As the door closed behind Virgil, Remus’ head snapped up.

_“No apologies,” Deceit cut off whatever Remus was going to say. “I never want to hear you apologise for being yourself, and for struggling in your own head ever again. I’m just so happy you’re here with me today, alright? And I’ve been happy all my life to have you with me, every day of it, and I’ll be happy for the rest of it as well, but only if you’re there too, okay?”_

He stared at the now-closed door, and tears he didn’t want to acknowledge beaded in his eyes. He… No. He had to be _joking_.

After all this time. _All this time._ Remus had done _everything_ for Deceit. Listened to him. Helped him with his plots. Fed him when he wouldn’t eat, nursed him when he was sick. Looked after Deceit as much as Deceit had looked after him in return. He cared for Deceit when Deceit wouldn’t care for himself.   
And after all that.   
All this time _with Virgil gone_ , and just Remus and Deceit, for _years._ And after all that?   
After all was said and done?

Virgil was still his favourite.

Fine. Fine! Remus might _look_ and _act_ it, but he wasn’t _stupid._ There were only so many times you could try to get a rise out of someone with no response before you just couldn’t take it anymore.

He stood up sharply, leaving his half-eaten oats he hadn’t even wanted anyway behind on the table, and stormed off, down the corridor. He ducked into his room, and got dressed. He was… angry? Upset? Ashamed?

Well, for one, he should’ve known. He really should’ve.

He tore at his clothes, and definitely didn’t cry when he accidentally ripped the buttons off his jacket, sending the little things flying everywhere. He gave up, leaving the damn thing hanging open, telling himself with a bitter growl that today was a tits-out look anyway.

He gathered up a bunch of things in a bag, including his sketchbook, that old thing, and stopped only to write a letter, a fairly detailed one with surprisingly neat handwriting considering his mood, and thundering out of his room. He slammed his door, for good measure, and hoped it at least got a flinch, or maybe even a _‘what the fuck’_ from the person who’d promised he could never let down and yet somehow still did.

He didn’t think the problem was that Deceit lied to him.   
The problem was that he… was _Remus_.   
That he defied every promise, every vow, every oath that you could possibly make about someone like him.

Remus left, storming down the light side corridor until he got to Logan’s room, where he taped the letter to his door, and then turned on his heel sharply. He left the letter with Logan, because he was pretty sure that Logan was probably the one side responsible enough to take care of it, and the one with the least beef with Deceit. He’d make sure, one way or other, that Deceit was looked after.

Then he headed off to his next destination; Roman’s door to the Imagination.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus just... needs some time to take himself out of his own head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy dear readers
> 
> so it struck me that it might well have been like a month or two since i updated this. life has been wild and i lose track of time very easily. i figure i will release a few chapters tonight in apology! your comments have been so nice and i appreciate the love. didn't mean to drop off the radar.
> 
> also, 29 is my favourite number, so it's kinda cool we're up to here <3
> 
> Now, this chapter has some non-explicit sexual content towards the end, and several mentions of alcohol. this might come up in later chapters so just be aware that if that is something you dont want to or cant stomach... yea be warned. your comfort comes before your reading experience.

He slipped inside and closed the door firmly behind him, letting it melt into the scenery and taking a deep breath. The longing of home and love and family hit him in a haze, one that nearly yanked tears out of him this time, before he started to walk.

Honestly, the plan was to simply walk to his city from here. He was running out of fucks to give. But the music on the breeze drew him in, and before he had really known it, his feet were wandering down the cobbled streets of Roman’s idyllic little settlement.

“Duke Remus!” some of the citizens called. “Duke Remus is here!”

He expected it to be out of fear. But no, it was a joyful call, like someone getting a surprise visit from a good friend they hadn’t seen in months.

People of all shapes and kinds and sizes rushed out to meet him, smiling and bowing and chatting away, pushing baked goods and sweet treats into his hands, as if Remus wasn’t looking like shit and oh, he still had his broken jacket hanging open, but he was being led away into a lovely little tailor’s shop where a round, friendly hedgehog lady took his coat off him and started repairing it, even as the door and windows were left open, and musicians gathered on the nearest street corner, out of sight, but their music sweetened the air and lifted the anguish from Remus’ brow.

He sat on a provided stool, bare-chested, staring out the window at the beautiful landscape, the gardens, the gleamingly clean streets, the children playing, the birds darting down and around, and a sleek black cat even wandered in the door and came right up to him, rubbing up against his leg. Remus smiled softly, and offered it the scritches it craved, watching his brother’s world in silence and trying not to think too hard.

The nice hedgehog seamstress lady (her name was Bertha) chatted away to Remus, not really bothered that Remus didn’t reply, just talking.  
Though as she paused to really scrutinise a rip, she looked up and smiled at the Duke.   
“Your coat is of marvellous craftsmanship,” she said warmly. “I hope my needlework is enough to even dare to repair it.”

Remus had made it himself. He flushed and focussed on the cat that had now settled in his lap, purring loudly.  
But after a moment, he whispered, “thank you.”

She smiled in reply, and Remus hunched his shoulders.

Before long, she was done, and hurried to fetch a stepladder to perch on so she could help him back into his jacket, even though Remus insisted he didn’t need help at all. She’d swapped the black buttons out for silver. They looked very fetching.  
“Thank you,” Remus said genuinely. “It looks better than when it was new.”

It wasn’t a lie. Bertha laughed joyfully and bowed deeply.   
“You flatter me, my lord!” she cried. “Anything I can do for you, sir, I will. If you need anything else, do come back, sir!”

“I’ll be sure to,” Remus found himself smiling too, and he bowed back, something that flustered the little seamstress to no extent.

Before long, he was taken by the hand by the children playing in the streets, telling him to come, come quick! And they led him to a park, where a band was playing in the bandstand, and Roman’s villagers were dancing, and he was swept along, and, well, Remus wasn’t sure how many hours bled into each other, only that it grew dark.   
And then, long banquet tables were brought out, and lined with food, and Remus was invited to sit at the head of the party and he hardly knew what to do with himself, but the food was delicious and the drinks were sweet, and the revelry carried on late into the night, dancing fireflies lighting up the darkness.

Eventually, Remus collapsed into a nearby chair, exhausted but euphoric, a rosy glow about his cheeks as villagers came before him and recited poetry and sang and danced for him, all for him, this celebration was for his arrival and for his happiness, and even when Remus finally crashed into the realm of sleep so very late that night, he was happy.

He was happier than he had been in such a very, _very_ long time.

He woke up in Roman’s keep, which sat on a hill proudly overlooking the village. He was woken by dry and gentle lips brushing his temple, and he rolled over to see that lying open on the floor from where it had fallen out of his bag was his sketchbook, and standing over him, looking down at him fondly, was the Patton construct.

“Hiya, Remus,” it said with a smile.

“Hello, you,” Remus said back. “Paper Patton. It’s been a while.”

The Patton giggled at that, and sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes glittering with love.   
“Where are we going today?” it queried, reaching out for Remus’ hand and pressing it to its lips.

“We’re going home,” Remus declared. “As wonderful as last night was, I’m missing the _real_ party.”

They were offered steeds by Roman’s lovely stablehand, Sylvia, but Remus turned them down nonchalantly.

“I will arrange my own ride,” he said with a smile and he was holding the Patton’s hand the whole time, bag slung over his shoulder. “You all are wonderful hosts, I had a delightful time and you throw a great party, but it’s high time I get home.”

Sylvia bowed deeply to them.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, my lord,” she declared warmly. “It’s been an honour.”

Anywhere else, from anyone else, that would be sarcastic. But here, in the Imagination, fuelled by all the love and respect that Remus craved and secretly knew he’d never receive, he knew it was real, and he merely laughed jovially and bowed back.

“It was my pleasure!”

* * *

As soon as they were off, walking across the rolling greens, still hand in hand, Remus waved his hand lazily towards the area in front of them. Shimmering into existence before them was a dragon, fearsome in its size, with bottle green scales glimmering in the sunlight.   
It swung around towards Remus, yellow eyes bright and smart, before it gently lay down before him, nose coming to rest a few inches from Remus’ boots, blinking long and slow like a docile cat.

“I dub thee Julie,” Remus declared. “And, oh, Julie, aren’t you beautiful!”

Julie took them to Remus’ kingdom, soaring low over the rolling landscape, and the Patton construct’s arms were comfortably tight around Remus’ middle, its chin hooked over his shoulder. The moment Julie touched down, Remus’ town burst into life, like it was just _itching_ , waiting for him to arrive. And from that point onwards, the festivities turned to… something more up Remus’ alley.

Remus’ creations knew how to party, and how to party _hard._ Roman’s side was cute, and the party had been delightful and fun for sure, but there had been no _hijinks_.   
Everything was woefully PG and Remus was itching to just _forget_ for a night or two, or a week. Or a month. He’d see how it went.

But now, it was time to let loose. Get wild. Get dangerous. Indulge in everything Thomas wouldn’t or couldn’t do in his day to day life and try to stave off the nightmares that’d come if he didn’t do it right.   
Remus watched his town shift around him, creations pouring out of their houses and everyone starting to decorate, to prep. This’d be a night to a remember, and a night for forgetting.

* * *

Now, it was safe to say that Remus absolutely was not sober.

Completely, utterly, ten-out-of-ten sobern’t. Inebriated, if you will, which also happened to be one of his favourite words. _Inebriated._ It was just so fun to say.

He managed to drink all his creations under the table, maintaining his title as the Undefeated Iron Liver, hooting and glowing with pride as he slammed the last drink down. The music was thumping and filled his ears in such a mindblanking way that all Remus had to do was _move_ , all he _could_ do was _move._   
And there was always contact. Skin-on-skin, hands and fur and tentacles and scales and god knew what else keeping him in the moment, setting his skin on fire again and again. He felt as light as air and as good as sin, and he found himself on his back on a bed and covered with sweat and his belly full of electricity more times than he could count and he _loved it_ , loved every minute, and it didn’t stop there.

The _‘merry-making’_ didn’t stop all night, or the next day, or the day after. In fact, Remus wasn’t sure how many suns had set, but he remembered precious moments in time, caught on a balcony, the Patton construct pressed up next to him as they watched the sunset in peace for just a few, hollow, silent heartbeats, before he was dragged back into the bedroom once more.

It probably wasn’t healthy. It probably wasn’t wise. But they’d get along just fine without him, Remus told himself in a rare moment of lucidity as the fake Patton left teeth marks up his neck. They didn’t need him before. He might as well actually enjoy himself, for once, as the ugly, rude, crass, horny, disgusting, dim-witted, unrelenting bastard he was.

And then they rolled over, and Remus stopped thinking once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jus wanna say thank u 2 magpie morality for coining the term paper patton   
> i just gotta give credit where credit is due bc i didnt think of that and i havent been able to stop thinkin about the phrase 'paper patton' so yea thank u magpie


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's kinda short so i'll upload one more after this.
> 
> Now i have just realised that while i intended it to be more like,,,,, depression / apathy towards caring for oneself, i might have accidentally written Dee with an eating disorder? I dont know a lot about the thing and yes the next part of Deceit's 'arc' so's to speak focusses on that a bit so..... yeah. heads up  
> also let me know if i should tag it? i probably should. i dont know if it like counts but yeah hgisdlhjksfgdfg :(

Logan was heading upstairs mid-afternoon to fetch something from his room when he found the letter. He paused, glancing up and down the hallway in mild confusion as he scanned for whoever left it, but whoever it had been was long gone.

He hurried over and prized the tape off his door, turning it over in his hands. The pale green stationary was his first clue, plus the scratchy handwriting, that this was from Remus. But why would Remus leave him a note? Did Remus intend it for Logan? One would assume, seeing as it was taped to Logan’s door in particular, but...

Well, it didn’t make much sense.

Logan opened it as he bumped his bedroom door open with his hip. It was two pages long, and the first detail Logan noticed was that it was dated for today, with a time next to it that had been scribbled out, but he could clearly see read 7:28am.   
So, it had been… about seven hours ago.

 _‘Dear Logan,’_ it read. _‘Forgive me for reaching out to you like this, and I suppose you can ignore it if you like, but this is not as much for my sake as it is for Deceit’s.’_

Logan frowned, and crossed the room to his desk to he could sit, spreading the letter out on the desk before him.

_‘I am going away for a while. Into the Imagination. I do not have a return date, as it stands, though I do not strive to be gone for a ridiculous amount of time. I realise given my past actions that this might be cause for alarm (I also realise that I have not told you of said ‘past actions’, but someone else probably has by now. If not… ask Roman or Patton). But I assure you, it will not be nearly as self-destructive this time.’_

Logan’s frown deepened as he recalled what Patton had told him.

_‘But the thing is, Logan, is that Deceit is not in a good state of mind. I don’t fully know why. I believe it’s something to do with Patton, and thus he is avoiding me. But the thing is, Logan, Deceit doesn’t look after himself when he’s in a poor state of mind. He will not eat unless someone makes it for him. And even then, he might need some coercion. I do not know how long I’ll be away for. I’m asking you to make sure he doesn’t starve.’_

Logan leaned away from the letter for a moment, taking on this information with a few blinks, taking a moment, before continuing to read.

 _‘He’s been letting Roman see him, and Virgil got into his room this morning,’_ the letter continued, _‘so if Deceit doesn’t want to see you, get one of them to help you. But he_ will _starve himself with no intervention. See if you can help him sort himself out, or at least keep him alive. I’m sure you know more than most how much Thomas needs Dee.’_  
Logan rubbed his face. He had an inkling, really, no more and no less, of how much Deceit may actually be needed, and this, of course, was alarming to read.

_‘I don’t want to step on toes. I don’t want to stress people out, or upset them, and I don’t want to get in the way. Forgive me for stepping back for a while, Logan, but if I don’t, I’ll go mad. I can tell when I’m not wanted.’_

Not wanted?  
Logan rose to his feet and picked up the papers, a sound of indignation left his throat. Oh, he knew he should’ve checked on the Duke. It’d been too long. He _knew he should’ve_ done something.

_‘But this is not about me, for once, and I do not wish to make it so. Over the page, I have included a list of foods Dee can stomach, and there are recipes in our kitchen for the particular soups and the like. Look after him, Logan. That’s all I ask. I realise it’s probably a lot of work, but he’s worth it. Trust me on that, I beg you.’_

Logan started to pace, flicking through to see a very orderly list, most with little descriptions under them. There were also instructions for various confrontations, such as Deceit being incentivised to shower and such. Remus had it all planned, it seemed.  
Or in the very least, well-rehearsed.  
He needed to _talk_ to Remus when he got back.

_‘And, Logan? I write you this letter, full-heartedly trusting that you will treat this with an appropriate amount of discretion. You know what Deceit’s like. He hates people knowing he might be ‘weak’. He will not accept help if he thinks it’s pity. And if_ everyone _finds out, I fear he will not take it well. But what do I know, eh?’_

“…Oh, Remus,” someone said.  
Logan blinked as he realised it was _him._

 _‘Though I guess the long and short of this is: don’t tell Patton.’  
_ There was a large gap in the writing, like Remus had paused for thought, before he’d written. _  
‘Or, at least, try not to. He is surprisingly good at finding things out, I’ve found.’_

Logan winced at that.

_‘But… yeah. Check on him, at least. If he’s showered and dressed, that’s a good start. I’ll repay you in what way I can when I return.’_

And then, it seemed Remus couldn’t make up his mind as to how he wanted to sign off. There was a scribbled out ‘apologies,’ and a ‘thank you,’ and a ‘many thanks,’ and some far less legible, before he finally added at the bottom of the page:

_‘Yours Sincerely,  
Duke Remus Sanders.’_

Logan stared at the letter in his hands in growing _horror._ The way that Remus was begging for him to see Deceit’s worth (which he already did, by-the-bye), was… well, Logan wasn’t usually one to use such loaded emotional terms as _heart-wrenching,_ but it seemed appropriate as a rather physical emotion, because that’s exactly what it did. Logan pressed a hand over his heart and felt pressure rise in his throat.  
This didn’t have to be a favour. He’d do it.

…He needed to look after Patton, too.

Perhaps… perhaps he would enlist Roman’s help with Deceit, and Virgil’s help with Patton. They needed to start looking after each other properly anyway.

_I write you this letter, full-heartedly trusting that you will treat this with an appropriate amount of discretion._

That made it just a little bit hard, honestly, because the easiest way to possibly fix this would be to start talking it through, but… But Remus was putting a lot of faith in him, by the sound of it.   
Logan stood.   
He’d discuss with Remus when he got back.

But for now, he stored the letter away in a desk drawer, bringing the second page with him folded neatly in a pocket, before heading off towards the dark sides’ common room.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan makes Deceit dinner. Deceit realises he's fucked up. They talk about some stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah more stuff about food in this chapter so here's your heads up. it's just mostly got soup as a sort-of-plot-point

The first thing Logan did was start rifling through the shelf Remus had indicated in his letter, and finding a binder full of recipes that had been scrawled over and adjusted; fine-tuned, it seemed. He cast his eye over them, noting with relief that none of them seemed too complicated. Not that he couldn’t _do_ complicated, it was just nice to have a break from such things.

With that sorted out, the next thing he did was go and knock on Deceit’s door.  
 _Knock knock._  
And he waited.

There was a beat of silence.  
“Who is it?” Deceit called hesitantly, obviously confused.

“Greetings, Deceit,” Logan called back. “It’s Logan. I’ve been sent to check if you’re alright.”

“Sent by who?” Deceit snapped, and there was the sound of rustling fabric.

“Remus,” Logan said truthfully.

He was hit with silence again, before there was shuffling, and Deceit’s door opened sharply.

Logan did not, to his merit, flinch at the sight of Deceit like Virgil had earlier. He had dark circles under his human eye, and the skin under his snake eye was extra puffy. His hair was greasy and matted. He was in a sweatshirt and pyjama bottoms, with an additional blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he was wearing thick, woolly socks and nothing more on his feet, but the most notable thing about Deceit’s appearance was the guarded expression on his face, his tired eyes searching Logan’s face for lies, and for information.  
“Why?” he demanded, voice croaking.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Remus sent you. Why?”

Logan twisted his tie in his hands and decided to tell the truth.  
“Remus left me a letter,” he stated. “And thus, I am here.”

“A letter?” Deceit echoed, and something dark crossed his face, before he hurried past Logan, down the hall, and stopped outside Remus’ door.

_Remus didn’t tell him,_ Logan realised, and pressure rose in his throat, and he found himself wanting to look away, like he didn’t want to see this.

Deceit knocked, once, twice, three times, before hesitantly calling the Duke’s name, and opening his door.  
Remus was not there.  
“Where is he?” Deceit demanded, and his eyes were wide and hurt. “Is he alright?”

“He wrote that he felt the need to step back,” Logan said, and Deceit’s face dropped. “He wrote he was going into the Imagination for... an unspecified amount of time.”

“Oh, no, no, _no,”_ Deceit started to mumble, and he was pacing, and Logan took the time to full take him in. He had quietly noticed that Deceit was the most slight of the lot of them, but wouldn’t’ve assumed poor eating habits to be the reason. “I… this is my fault, isn’t it? I… I… _shit.”_

On his final hissed curse, Deceit paused and punched the wall, hissing again as it hurt. Of course it hurt! Logan immediately hurried over and took him by the hands and lead him away, tunnel-visioning on helping Deceit, not noticing how Deceit flinched at the contact.

By the time they got to the kitchen table, Logan realised that Deceit was shaking. He also realised that he was holding Deceit’s bare hand.

No gloves.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, and politely and panickedly extracted his hand from Deceit’s shaking grip. “O-oh, my apologies, Deceit, I should’ve thought.”

Deceit snatched his hand back, smiling thinly, and he shoved his hands back in his pockets.

“I think we need to ice it,” Logan pressed, his voice shaking.

“I’ll be fine,” Deceit said, and his voice was solid and commanding, almost enough to convince Logan otherwise.

“It’ll hurt,” Logan shot back. “And… everyone’s hurting enough. Just let me help you, Deceit. There’s no weakness in accepting help. I’m here to make sure you eat.”

Deceit fell still.  
“Remus told you,” he stated icily.

“He was worried,” Logan said slowly, “that with him gone, he thought you wouldn’t look after yourself, and asked me, with full discretion, mind you, to make sure you were still there when he got back. Can you fault him for that?”

Deceit stared at the floor, not replying.

“We are not trying to baby you,” Logan said, moving from where he was standing over him and into the kitchen. “There is no shame in struggling, Deceit.”

_“No apologies,” Deceit cut off whatever Remus was going to say. “I never want to hear you apologise for being yourself, and for struggling in your own head ever again.”_

Deceit rolled his shoulders and tried not to shiver.   
“I’m such a hypocrite,” he said instead, shaking his head as his own words haunted him.

“Giving advice is easy,” Logan agreed with a shrug as he dug around in the pantry for ingredients. “Following it is the hard part.”

Deceit watched Logan bustle around the kitchen; and Logan _was_ indeed one to bustle.   
“You…” he half-said, before Logan turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. “…You are wiser than you seem.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed at that. Or did they slouch?   
It was always a little hard to read Logan when he wasn’t angry.

“I will take that as a compliment,” he murmured, glancing at Deceit before continuing to cook.

* * *

Deceit watched in silence, not moving from his gargoyle’s perch at the dinner table, not saying a word until Logan placed a bowl of some steaming-hot soup of some variety down on the table in front of him.  
“Thank you,” he mumbled, watching Logan retrieve spoons and bread for dipping, before pulling up a chair beside Deceit.

“All’s well,” Logan told him with a nod, handing him a utensil and gesturing for him to eat.

Deceit had been hungry. Deceit was usually hungry. This was exactly like how Remus would make it, and it was _good._ Logan had obviously stayed to encourage him to eat, or coerce him if need be, but Deceit needed to encouragement today.   
Even if his stomach did occasionally flip with guilt as things came back to him.

They ate in silence, and Deceit was glad for it. The minutes ticked by, and it didn’t feel sad, or accusatory, or tired. It just felt…  
Like two people eating soup.  
Logan was good at not making interactions feel loaded. Deceit wondered how he did it.

Logan glanced at him, before looking away again, and once again, it struck Deceit just how awful he looked. He felt awful. He didn’t know whether that was because he hadn’t looked after himself, or whether not-looking after himself was the byproduct.

He saw Remus’ wide eyes flashing in his memory, coaxing him out of his room for the umpteenth time, and shuddered.  
“Deceit?” Logan queried, and his voice was cautious, calm and concerned.

“I’m…” Deceit bit his tongue, knowing the words he’d use to describe himself that were already pinging around in his skull certainly could not be repeated in polite company. “I’ve _used_ him.”

Logan paused, and Deceit could practically see the cogs whirring between logic’s ears to catch up on what he meant.

“And he’s finally taking a stand,” Deceit murmured, curling in on himself. “Fair enough. Good for him.”

“He’s not…” Logan cut in, before waving a hand. “Wait, we’re talking about the Duke, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. He’s not ‘taking a stand’. He’s taking time to himself. He… he wrote that he didn’t feel needed, so I imagine there are a number of internal factors, but-”

Deceit put his head in his hands, choking out a strangled sound as Logan flinched.  
“He’s needed,” Deceit cut in. “He’s _more_ than needed, he’s loved! I can’t believe myself. I did this.”

“Um,” Logan tried to stammer. “Th-that’s not what I… he…”

Logan rubbed his face tiredly.

“I’m so bad at this,” he mumbled to himself, and Deceit was taken aback at how _distressed_ Logan sounded. “Why did it have to be me?”

“You don’t have to be here,” Deceit pointed out; not upset, just tired.

He could understand why Logan wouldn’t want to be around him. Patton hadn’t. Virgil hadn’t. And now Remus didn’t.  
He understood. He really did.

Logan slammed his hands down on the table, making Deceit flinch.  
“Don’t misconstrue me!” he snapped. “My words were not intended for, nor directed at you. Forgive me, I’ve had a… _trying_ past few days trying to make sure we function properly. Between you and Patton and Remus, I’ve had quite the workout.”

_Patton?_

As curiousity dawned in Deceit’s eyes, the colour drained from Logan’s face as he realised he’d said too much. He put his head in his hands, and Deceit heard him mumbling to himself, chiding himself, but not distinct enough to make out what he was saying. Then Logan stopped dead, like he’d been scalded, and sat up straight.

“Logan…” Deceit started, but he had nothing more to say.

“Apologies,” Logan huffed out, rising to his feet. “It was not my intention to upset you, nor ruin your evening. I am not particularly adept at social cues, as well you know.”

“You are not ruining anything,” Deceit shook his head. “I… I have moments where I struggle with what I am. I am supposed to be self-preserving and self-serving. I am Thomas’ self-preservation, amongst other things. But it’s been hard to… to _be_ so, recently. I wish I knew why, and I wish I could move through it, but…”

“If things were that easy,” Logan hummed in agreement, “we would’ve fixed many things years ago.”

Deceit snorted at that, because it was true.

* * *

Logan went back upstairs a couple hours later, after a lengthy and enjoyable discussion about nothing and everything, and a quiet reminder that Deceit was always welcome.

Deceit found himself sitting at the table, staring at the stairs even long after Logan had gone, before he quietly nodded to himself, lips twisting in an almost surprised acceptance.

He wondered if he’d see Logan tomorrow.

He ran a hand through his hair. He’d definitely need to have a shower between now and then. Maybe he’d do that now.

He stood up and ambled to his room, rooting around for a change of clothes, before heading to the bathroom with quiet showtunes whistling past his lips.

* * *


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit comes downstairs for breakfast. Him and Roman may or may not make moon-eyes at each other. Logan is stressed. Virgil takes a moment to care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop look who's yeeting herself out of the void today it's ME  
> i said to magpie yesterday i said 'i havent updated this in a while i should do that tomorrow' and it's 10.30pm and i've only just remembered
> 
> so i have decided to be a generous god and make this chapter is a longboi :)
> 
> hope y'all are doing okay. get some water, take a moment for yourselves, and get some good sleep at some point in the next 36 hours <3
> 
> and oops i havent thought about it too hard but it does look like im writing in some analogical now doesnt it?

Deceit had joined them for breakfast the next day.

Logan smiled as he came downstairs, pleasantly surprised to see him, as Deceit hesitantly paused by the bannister, resting a hand on it as he waited for… something.  
“Hello, Deceit!” Logan said brightly. “Here, I need some advice on what to cook for breakfast. Sweet or savoury pancakes?”

Deceit wandered over, and Logan was thrilled to see he was showered and dressed. They talked about nothing and everything, and Logan had Deceit help him cook, though it was very quickly aware that Deceit did _not_ know his way around a frying pan. Or a spatula. Or a spoon.  
Logan didn’t think people could _be_ this genuinely bad at cooking, honestly, but Deceit was laughing in embarrassed delight as he tried to crack an egg on the edge of the bowl, gone in a little too hard, and had practically smashed the thing clean in two, sending egg all over the bench.

As Logan rubbed his temples, Deceit doubled over laughing, holding his sticky hand away from his body as they stared at the mess.

“Even Virgil’s better at this,” Logan deadpanned.

“My glove!” Deceit shrieked, fighting for words among his gasping wheezes and losing the battle.

There was the sound of a creaking floorboard, and Logan looked up to see Roman on the stairs, looking down at the two of them with a fond smile on his face. As soon as their eyes met, Roman turned red, before clattering down the rest of the stairs.

Deceit stood up, still chortling to himself, peeling off his now-dirty glove as Roman crossed the room, pausing on the other side of the counter to take in the mischief.

“Oh!” Deceit straightened up properly, a touch of red colouring his human cheek. “Um, good morning, Roman.”

Roman smiled.  
“Good morning,” he replied. “It’s nice to see you around, again. I didn’t know you cooked!”

“He doesn’t,” Logan grumbled, ushering Deceit out of the kitchen so he could clean the mess Deceit had left behind. “Roman, watch this one so he doesn’t throw any more eggs all over the place, will you?”

Deceit started giggling again, pressing his now-gloveless hand to his mouth, and turning a little bit redder as Roman offered his hand with a bow, and he carefully slotted his gloved hand into the prince’s and let him lead him away.

They ended at the table, sitting across from each other. Roman had his back to the stairs, and Deceit his back to the wall; this left Deceit with a good view of the room. And they chatted. They chatted of nothing in particular. Roman started rambling on about a musical Deceit had recommended to him a week or so ago, almost like he was proving that he _had_ listened, had ‘done his homework’, if you would, and it took only a few easy comments from Deceit to turn it from a recitation to a conversation, and soon they were poking fun at their least favourite characters, Roman taking the time to defend one of his favourites against Deceit’s barbs.

“She’s doing her _best!”_

Deceit giggled behind his hand as Roman’s cheeks flushed lightly with his passion as he banged his fists on the table to emphasise his argument. He liked seeing Roman like this. Enjoying himself. Having an enjoyable conversation about something he knows a lot about. He liked making Roman happy, it was a joy to see his eyes sparkling as he waved his hands around before him.

The colour drained out of Deceit’s face as he backpedalled through his thoughts. What was that last bit?

_He liked making Roman happy._

Well, o-of course he did! Who wouldn’t want to make their friends happy? Even if every grin and beam made Deceit’s gut twist most delightfully, it meant nothing more. Deceit couldn’t take his eyes off the prince, who took that moment to burst into song, riffing on his favourite quote from the show, and Deceit’s _heart_ fluttered, and he jolted so hard at the feeling, he hit his knee on the table leg.

“Oh!” Roman’s radiant smile immediately dropped away to be replaced with panicked concern. “Are you okay? Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I-”

“No!” Deceit exclaimed, a hand cupping his now-throbbing knee and his voice coloured with a desperation. “No, don’t stop, I’m sorry, I just had a-a _thought_ , it caught me off-guard, I didn’t mean to react so violently.”

“Oh,” Roman replied, relief bleeding into his eyes. “…May I ask what that thought was?”

Deceit couldn’t control how his human-side turned _bright red_ at that. He quickly turned his face away from the prince but it was too late, and he flicked his eyes up to Roman’s face to see the prince blanch, as realisation stumbled across his expression, before an adorable crimson rose up his neck as well.

“Maybe not today,” Deceit forced out, voice a whisper. “But… it was a good thought. I think.”

“Oh,” Roman said softly, and Deceit dared to glance back, and saw how Roman’s eyes glittered with something new. “…Take your time, okay?”

Deceit stood swiftly, trying to tame his flush, and shot Roman a brief smile.  
“I… I will,” he fumbled out. “I-I’m going to go get a new glove. One that isn’t covered in egg.”

Roman smiled at him, and gestured towards the stairs.  
“As long as you come back,” he said softly, smile vulnerable. “I like spending time with you.”

_Oh god, oh god, oh god,_

Deceit bowed, he _bowed!_ He bowed stiffly, and hurried away upstairs back to his quarters, and took the opportunity to scream into one of his many pillows before he set about finding a fresh pair of gloves.

* * *

Logan watched him go, before turning to Roman, who was staring after Deceit with a deep blush and a tender look.

“I asked you to look after him,” he commented sharply, feeling more and more frazzled as the hassle of trying to work around Deceit’s non-existent cooking skills, cleaning up the mess, the heat of the kitchen, the fact he had just realised that he had had the pan too hot and the pancakes weren’t cooking right, and the constant mental reminders that _Remus asked him to do look after Deceit_ and _he hadn’t checked on Patton yet today_ started to get to him. “I didn’t realise that was _difficult_.”

“I just flustered him!” Roman covered up, eyes wide. “I didn’t upset him!”  
The fight went out of the prince.  
“Or,” he mumbled. “I hope I haven’t.”

Logan stared at the pancakes sizzling in the pan, and let out a thin hiss of air, letting the tension drain from his shoulders.  
“It’s fine,” he said with a tiny sort-of-half-smile. “He didn’t look upset, so…”

“Look, I know he’s not in the best state right now,” Roman rushed, clearly beginning to look more and more upset himself. “And I _know_ that… I know he… Look, if he’s not back by the time breakfast is cooked, I’ll take his down to him, okay?”

Logan blinked, before just nodding.  
“That’d be appreciated,” he said.

* * *

Roman ended up having to take Deceit’s plate to him, so he took his own meal and soldiered off to the Dark Side area, thank-you’s flying off his lips. Virgil came downstairs next, half-asleep and seemingly lead by his nose, straight into accepting a waiting plate.

“Have you seen Patton yet today?” Logan asked as he set the last two unclaimed plates down on the table.

“I caught him going to have a shower about ten minutes ago,” Virgil nodded towards upstairs. “He said he’d be down in twenty.”

“Make that thirty, then,” Logan hummed, taking Patton’s plate and setting it in the oven on its warming setting. Then, he re-joined Virgil at the table.

“No plate for Remus?” Virgil nodded to one of the empty seats, questioning.

Logan’s mouth dried out, but he didn’t panic.  
“Remus isn’t joining us this morning,” he said plainly. “He’s off in the Imagination today.”

Virgil accepted this easily enough, turning back to his pancakes with a hum.

They sat quietly, the silence only broken with the squeaks of cutlery on plates, before Virgil tapped Logan’s shoulder.

Logan jumped. He blinked at Virgil, who was now standing over him, holding an empty plate.

“You good?” he asked, and despite his nonchalant tone, Logan could see the glitter of concern in Virgil’s eyes. “You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

Logan’s eyes wandered down, and he noticed he had, in fact, barely touched his breakfast.

At the thought of finishing his plate, his stomach turned.  
“I can’t,” he said quietly. “I can’t stomach it right now.”

 _Not when Patton hasn’t shown up yet and not with him not knowing if Deceit is alright and not without knowing if_ Remus _is alright, and-_

“Okay,” Virgil said quietly, and his hand, cool and steady, was on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s okay. Want me to take your plate?”

Logan just nodded.

“Cool.”

Virgil carried the plates away, scraped Logan’s clean, and stacked them into the dishwasher. He then started flitting around, making coffee, and as it was brewing, he came back over to where Logan was still sitting.  
“You want a coffee?” he asked gently.

Logan didn’t respond.

“Lo?”

Logan jumped again, turning to Virgil with an apology ready on his lips.

“Do you want a coffee?” Virgil repeated softly. “I’m making myself some, as it is.”

Logan rubbed his arms.  
“Yes,” he nodded. “I’d love one.”

Virgil ducked back into the kitchen, brewed the coffees, before ferrying them back to the table, setting Logan’s favourite, giant mug down in front of him. It was a heat-changing one, where most of the mug was opaque black, but constellations lit up with heat.

He made sure to set it down with a relatively solid _clunk_ , enough to alert Logan without touching him again, and Logan smiling wanly in thanks at him as Virgil slid into the chair beside him.

Virgil watched Logan take a slow sip of his drink, and smiled as he saw the crease between Logan’s brows ease at the taste. He made it exactly how he knew Logan loved it, but would never make for himself (– _too much sugar, too much cream, it’s frivolous,_ Logan had once told him. _It’s only appropriate as a comfort food, honestly)._

Logan set his mug down, before casting a soft look at Virgil.  
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I… I can guess why you made it this way.”

“You look like you need it,” Virgil softly. “You okay?”

Logan… went pale. He smiled anyway, but it didn’t change the fact that he went quite pale.  
“Yes,” he said.

“Logan,” Virgil pressed.

“I’m adequate, thank you,” Logan elaborated, taking another drink of coffee.

“ _Logan.”_

“ _Virgil_ ,” Logan stated in return, eyes hardening.

Virgil stared back.

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, and all of a sudden, he sounded so _tired._ “Please understand me when I say that I’m keeping secrets that _cannot_ be afforded to spill. Not without permission.”

Virgil flinched. And rightfully so. Because he hadn’t forgotten what he’d done. What he’d spilled.  
He was amazed Remus still wanted to see him, honestly.

“I just…” Virgil trailed off, rubbing his arms. “I hate to see you so worn down, Lo.”

Logan stared for a moment, before he blinked.  
“’Lo’?”

Virgil blanched, before he turned red.  
“I-I, uh, I didn’t… um, it slipped out. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I-,”

“Lo,” Logan repeated to himself, cutting Virgil off quietly, eyes wandering around the room, as if he were trying it on for size. “It’s… not unpleasant.”

 _Not unpleasant._  
He would never get over how Logan worded things.

“Let me think about it,” Logan murmured, raising his cup to his lips. “I don’t think its _un_ comfortable, but let me think on it.”

“Sure,” Virgil stumbled out, and he took a big quaff of his drink. He could still feel how hot his cheeks were. Logan raised an eyebrow at him, and he went redder.

But as the heat faded from his face, Logan sighed, and finished off his drink, before standing in preparation to go put his cup away.

“Virgil…” Logan said, and he seemed to be warring with himself of what to say, of how much he could say about whatever he was about to talk about.

“Yeah?”

Logan swallowed hard, before rolling his shoulders.

“Do you… ah, let me backpedal a moment,” he raised a hand, like he was gesturing for Virgil to slow down. “Is your relationship with Patton sound at the moment?”

Virgil frowned at the question.  
“As far as I know, yeah?” he replied, but his voice quavered dreadfully. “Why, has he said something to you?”

“Oh, no,” Logan rushed. “It seemed outwardly that your relationship had been mended recently, which I am glad for, I just wished to double-check, because outward appearances have since been deceiving as of late.”

Virgil tried not to flinch at the word _deceiving_.

“…Just…” Logan rubbed his face tiredly. “Do me a favour, Virgil. Keep an eye on Patton, would you?”

Virgil looked at Logan funny.

“He’s…” Logan swallowed down whatever he was going to say. “Just… watch out for him, Virgil. Patton… has been, ah, what can I say? He’s been struggling, mentally, for a while, and…”

Logan rolled his shoulders again.

“I get it,” Virgil cut off Logan’s ramble. “I’ll… I get it. I will.”

The relief in Logan’s eyes was palpable, and struck Virgil so strongly that if it were physical, it would have knocked him out of his seat.

“Thank you,” he said softy. “I’m… I need to check on something. If Patton comes downstairs while I’m gone, remind him that his breakfast is warming, make sure he eats?”

“I will,” Virgil repeated.

“Thank you,” Logan said again, shuffling away.

“All good,” Virgil replied. “Go on, I’ll take your mug.”

Virgil watched Logan hurry away, throwing a couple glances over his shoulder, and he ambled into the kitchen to stack the dishes, thinking about Logan, and wondering why his heart decided to beat faster if he dared to think too hard.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan really needs a nap. Things start falling into place. Shit's beginning to get a little bit real.

Logan’s thoughts were being very loud.

He knew he wasn’t really having a good day, but everyone else seemed to be having a good morning, so it… it could be worse. He _should_ be having a good day, but here he was, running himself into the ground with worry because he was the only one who just _wasn’t_ having a good day.

He hurried downstairs, trying to let his feet be louder than his thoughts, which didn’t work, and only caused Deceit and Roman to look up at him with guarded concern as he reached the bottom.

This time, they were sitting at the dark sides’ dinner table, and seemingly quite amicably sharing a meal. In fact, judging by the look Roman was giving him, he’d interrupted something.

“Apologies,” he half-called, immediately struck by his own awkwardness. “I… I just wanted, um, to check that all was… well.”

“It is,” Roman said with a nod.

“Is it?” Logan asked again, making firm and pointed eye contact with Deceit.

Deceit looked down at his mostly-finished meal, before glancing up again, and his eyes flicked towards the prince. A soft smile touched his face, and he turned to Logan with more assurance in his eyes than Logan had seen in a long time.

“It is,” he agreed.

Logan stood there for a moment.  
“Oh,” he said.

And then he smiled.  
“Great,” he said smoothly. “I’m glad. Continue. Apologies for interrupting.”

And he turned and thundered away up the stairs, trying, trying, _trying_ to drown out his thoughts.

* * *

At the top of the stairs, he blundered straight into Patton, who was just leaving the shower, mostly clothed but barefoot and hoodie-less, who caught Logan by the arms with a shout.

“Woah there, Logie Bear!” Patton exclaimed with a laugh. “Where’s the race?”

Logan gripped Patton’s arms in return, not straightening up from where the impact had left him hunched, and he didn’t reply, only adjusted his grip and struggled to keep his breathing even.  
Patton’s joking tone dropped away immediately.  
“Logan, hon, are you okay?”

“I should be asking _you_ that question,” Logan said, and he stood up straight and wiped all the distress off his face in a clean sweep. He’d promised Patton he would at least try not to repress too much, but old habits die hard. There went six weeks and three days of progress.

“Logan,” Patton said softly.

“Patton,” Logan said back, and he slowly eased his hands away. “Have you been downstairs yet?”

Patton rubbed his elbows and smiled sheepishly.   
“Not yet?”

“Well, there’s breakfast in the oven keeping warm for you, and Virgil’s down there to make sure you eat it.”

“You’re not coming down?”

Logan took a sharp breath in, held it, and let it go. The strain on his face made him look angry, it seemed, because he watched Patton close off, and shuffle back a couple of steps.

“I already ate,” Logan said, and he was doing his very best to keep his voice level. A compromised logic helped no one. “No harm, no birds, Patton.”

“No…” Patton looked bewildered.

“No… no fowl?” Logan tried.

“Oh. …oh!” Patton’s face split into a grin that alerted Logan he’d made a Big Mistake™. “No, it’s not _that_ kind of foul, Logan!”

Logan’s face heated up, and he struggled to keep calm. He was going to break. He didn’t want to do it here. Patton didn’t deserve to pick up the pieces.

“It’s actually a…” Patton trailed off his explanation. “…Logan? Hon, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look it.”

_That’s what Virgil said._

Logan opened his mouth, about to spill all the metaphorical beans he could get his hands on; all the metaphorical lima and green and yellow and coffee and cocoa and chili and so on and so on, but…

_I write you this letter, full-heartedly trusting that you will treat this with an appropriate amount of discretion._

Logan closed his mouth, counted to five, before replying.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just stressed. I said I’d help Roman out with his latest draft – he’s waiting for me now.”

A lie.

He _lied._   
To _Patton_.   
Directly to his _face._

And seeing how Patton’s face melted into relief – but still concern – it was clear that not only had Logan _lied_ , but Patton had bought it too.

“Take it easy, you two,” Patton said earnestly. “Make sure you guys don’t work too long, okay?”

“I promise we won’t,” Logan said meekly, bowing his head, and trying not to seem as pathetic as he felt. “Go down and see how Virgil’s doing, why don’t you? I think he’s not in the best of moods.”

 _That was because Virgil had talked to_ Logan _this morning, but that was fine, wasn’t it?_

“…Okay,” Patton said, and his eyes were already flicking between Logan and the stairs, clearly eager to make sure Virgil truly was alright.

Logan patted Patton’s shoulder in the most comforting way he could manage, before turning around, and hurrying down the corridor, making a show of knocking on Roman’s door and entering, standing in the empty room with his ear pressed up against the wood listening to Patton go downstairs, before slumping to the floor and allowing himself a few minutes to let out some gasping breaths and definitely, absolutely _not_ some tears.

Then, he took the time to gather himself, to steady his breathing and rub his eyes. Then, he stood, and slipped out of Roman’s room and, after a moment of hesitation outside his own door, down the hall more, down to the entrance to the Imagination, and slipping inside.

* * *

Patton and Virgil had a nice morning together. They were chatting over their second batch of coffee when Virgil shifted in his seat, and looked at Patton.  
“Logan,” he said. “Logan’s been acting a bit weird today.”

“I did notice that,” Patton agreed with a frown. “When I was coming out of the bathroom, he walked right into me, which isn’t very _Logan,_ y’know? He’s usually very aware of his surroundings.”

Virgil hummed, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Patton pressed softly, and Virgil looked up to see Patton’s eyes, wide and tired. “Is Logan okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “…He told me he can’t say. I think he’s keeping a secret.”

The tone of Virgil’s voice was enough to tell Patton not to push that any further. Because the two of them had a bad track record with secrets.

“Oh,” he said instead, and all of a sudden, he was painfully aware that Remus was… not here. “Where’s Remus?”

“Lo said that he’s in the Imagination, apparently.”

Patton had stood up sharply before he’d even realised he was on his feet.

Virgil was staring up at him with wide eyes.   
“Why? …What’s wrong with that?”

“This…” Patton slid out from his seat and started to pace. “This probably isn’t good. Not good at all, if _last_ time was any indication! Oh pumpernickel, what do we do?”

Virgil had risen to his feet as well, on edge.

“Well, we should probably go after him!” Patton paused, posing dramatically like he was trying to channel Roman’s planning skills. “But… without Roman, we can’t track him down as easy. But I’m sure Sylvia will help.”

“Who’s Sylvia?”

“Ah!” Patton seemed to remember that Virgil was there. “Sylvia… she’s one of the, like, people? In the Imagination? One of the people Roman made?”

“Weird. Okay.”

Virgil got to his feet too.  
“Do we need to prepare, or can we just leave now?”

Patton stopped, and looked at Virgil in surprise.   
“You’re coming?”

“Uh, _yeah?_ He’s my br- uh, my friend, too.”

“I feel like we should ask Roman for help,” Patton frowned, rubbing his chin. “But he and Logan are having a brainstorming session, and I don’t really want to interrupt.”

“This is important,” Virgil shook his head. “I think they won’t mind. And, um, we should probably bring Dee, right? If something’s up with Remus, he’s our best bet.”

Patton nodded. That made sense. They were very close.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go knock on Roman’s door.”

* * *

“Roman, Logan, we need your help!” Patton called as he knocked on the door.

He stepped back a moment, and him and Virgil stared at the door as they waited for it to open. Which it did not.

“Huh,” Virgil said.

“Give them a minute,” Patton advised.

“You’d normally hear them,” Virgil pointed out, “at least by now. These bedrooms are _not_ soundproofed.”

“…You’re right.”

Patton stepped forward and opened the door, and blinked in confusion to see… the lights off, curtains still drawn, room untouched, and – more importantly – empty.

“They aren’t here?”

There was the sound of footsteps-on-stairs, and they turned to see Roman and Deceit stepping onto the landing.

“Did you need me, Padre?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“…Yes? We did, but…” Patton glanced between the prince and his empty bedroom in befuddlement. “H-have you seen Logan today?”

“Yes,” Roman answered, glancing at Dee, who glanced back equally as confused. “He popped downstairs to check on us before. Why? Is something wrong?”

Virgil and Patton glanced at each other now.

“Did he…” Patton wrung his hands. “Did he lie to me?”

“Logan… Logan doesn’t lie,” Virgil shook his head. “Well, I assumed he wasn’t in the habit of it? He’s… he’s _Logan._ ”

That had the others’ attention.

“He said he had a brainstorming session with _you,”_ Patton explained, nodding towards Roman, who’s brow furrowed. “I-I even watched him go into your room!”

“I was downstairs,” Roman shook his head. “I’ve been downstairs for hours.”

Patton rubbed his temple and took a steady breath.  
“Okay,” he said loosely. “We’ve lost Remus _and_ we’ve lost Logan.”

“Maybe Logan went to find him,” Virgil suggested quietly.

Deceit’s face had dropped.  
“The letter,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Logan said… Logan said Remus left him a letter,” Deceit added with a shaky voice. “About… me, and other things. About… oh, I don’t know. Logan didn’t really say.”

“How long as Remus been gone?”

“At least,” Deceit swallowed hard, and looked away, rubbing his arms with his hands to try and keep the crawling feeling seeping across his skin away. “At least two days?”

“Two _days,”_ Roman echoed. “At _least_? You didn’t say?”

“I didn’t know until yesterday!” Deceit retorted.

“And you _still_ didn’t say?”

“Logan said he needed space!”

Patton and Roman stared at Deceit with suddenly fearful expressions, enough so that Deceit was glancing between the two of them in a panic.

“What?”

Roman and Patton turned to each other.

“We need to go.”

“Do we need anything? Supplies?”

“I can handle that when we get in there.”

“In _where?_ Sorry?” Virgil suddenly interrupted.

“The Imagination,” Roman explained, and he summoned his sword and a proper scabbard to appropriately attach the weapon to his belt. “I would go in on Remus’ side but I have a terrible feeling that we might need a little bit of distance first. Plus, I’d rather find Logan before then.”

“Okay,” Patton flexed his fingers and immediately fell in step behind Roman as the prince turned on his heel and headed towards his Door to the Imagination.

“Wait, wait!” Virgil grabbed Patton’s arm in a panic. “What the fuck are we doing, really quick? Why is this such a big deal? I’m, uh, kinda freaking out right now?”

“Walk with me,” Patton said kindly, extending his invitation to the two bewildered sides. “And I’ll… explain.”


	34. Chapter 34

Roman was running over the hill and down towards his village as the others tailed after him, Patton explaining as delicately as he could what had happened the last time he had been here.

Virgil and Deceit looked horrified. Patton ended up grabbing Deceit’s shoulder to steady him as Deceit tripped, and he nearly flinched at how much _guilt_ was bubbling through Dee’s system right now. It had Patton taking a sharp breath in, and he tried to take a moment to steady to the two of them.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Look at me, Deceit?”

Deceit did, though he kept his expression blank.

“This isn’t your fault,” Patton told him, feeling the guilt spike despite his words. “And we’re going to fix this, okay? We’re going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Deceit shook his head. “You don’t know what Remus is _capable of.”_

Patton’s words died on his lips as all he could smell was sulphur, and he saw Remus framed by a volcanic glow, and he squeezed Deceit’s shoulders to try and bring himself back into the moment.

“It’s…” Patton tried to hang onto his positivity, but Deceit’s negative emotions and his own memories were overwhelming. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” Virgil said suddenly, his voice ever so soft. “Hey, Pat, let go, alright?” Virgil’s cold hands grabbed his wrists, and pulled him away from Deceit. Patton went to fight it, because he had to _help Deceit_ , but the moment his hands left Deceit’s shoulders it was just so much easier to breathe.

“It’s okay,” Virgil insisted, pulling Patton in for a quick hug.

“I’m sorry,” Patton choked out. “I don’t know how to stop it, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Virgil hummed, before he ended the hug.

Roman doubled back, trying to keep a pleasant smile on his face, but the frustration in the set of his brow was clear. They all started moving again, and Deceit increased his pace to fall in step with Patton. “What… exactly, just happened?”

“I…” Patton rubbed his arms and tried to smile. “You know how I have, like, an empathy-based ability? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, but when I steadied you, I felt what you were feeling. …I’ll try to avoid touching you from now on if you want.”

Deceit’s eyes widened with alarm, but on the whole, he managed to remain impassive.  
“That’s an …interesting ability,” he said carefully.

Patton swallowed hard.  
“Yeah,” he said with a thin smile. “It’s… handy. At times.”

“And you can’t control it?”

Deceit didn’t miss how Patton grimaced, before wiping the frown off his face as quickly as he could. Virgil glanced back at them, like he could sense Patton’s discomfort, and shot Deceit a particularly stern warning glance. Deceit blinked back, but let it drop.

* * *

As they made it to town, Roman broke into a run. Villagers with faces pinched with concern watched them from pavement and gardens, windows and doorways, Roman’s on anxiety reflected on their faces.

Virgil and Deceit stopped dead in their tracks at the sight, Deceit taking in a sharp breath of air, and Virgil immediately tearing up.

“Hey,” Patton said softly, turning around and grabbing them both by the wrist. He nearly whimpered outright at the intense wave of longing that rushed through him – double the strength than the first time he’d felt it. “H-hey, we can… we can come back later, okay? We gotta… we gotta go.”

It was so hard to force out the words. Why did Roman have to run off? He wasn’t strong enough for this.

“It feels so… _right,”_ Virgil whispered, glazed eyes turning to Patton with a small smile stretching across his face.

“I know, but it’s not real,” Patton forced out, shaking Virgil’s wrist. “V, it’s just a thing that Roman’s made, this place feels like home - but it’s not actually home.”

He turned to Deceit, eyes wide, begging him to understand, and Deceit stared at him blankly. The way Deceit’s eyes were glittering was Patton’s only clue to the quiet whirl of emotions in the side’s head – touching Deceit was so weird because it always felt _muted_.

“Come with me,” Patton ordered, tugging them both forward. “Maybe Roman can snap you out of it.”

* * *

As they drew closer to the stables, they could hear raised voices. Standing there was Logan arguing loudly with Sylvia, the stablehand, who was repeatedly shaking her head.

“I need to go there, I need to see him!”

“I have told you, my lord, I cannot let you take my charges over onto the Duke’s side,” Sylvia folded her top set of arms over her chest with a stony voice. “It is dangerous.”

“Remus isn’t a _threat!”_ Logan snapped, stamping his foot, and he looked so bedraggled, so off, that Patton stopped dead, both the other dreamy sides bumping into him. “Remus… he just needs help!”

“I’m afraid you still misunderstand me, my lord,” Sylvia rephrased, bowing to Logan. “On another day, I would not hesitate. But the Duke is in one of his _moods_. It is genuinely not _safe_ to send anyone else onto his side.”

Logan turned away, pivoting on his heel sharply and sucking in a sharp breath of air that was clearly supposed to be in lieu of a scream. But as he put his back to Sylvia, he saw Patton, Virgil and Deceit standing there.

“Patton!” he cried, and it looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Have you seen Roman?” Patton called, and he started to drag the others over. “He ran ahead, but I haven’t found him yet.”

“I… no? No, I haven’t,” Logan stopped as he realised how ditzy the others still were. “Are they alright?”

“Logan!” Virgil cheered, and he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Logan tightly. “Logan, I was so worried about you.”

Logan’s mouth opened and closed rapidly like a stunned fish, just standing there as Virgil all but buried his face in Logan’s neck.  
“Virgil?” he stammered. “Are… are you… alright? What’s…?”

He sounded so overwhelmed all of a sudden, and it struck Patton just how unaccustomed to intense emotions the rest of his family was.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay, okay. This is… You three, sit down, will you?”

He led them all to the side of the road and sat them down on the curb. Virgil had one arm wrapped around Logan, and Deceit’s hand in his other hand.

“Right,” Patton rubbed his face, voice cracking.

He turned on his heel and traipsed back to the stables, where Sylvia was waiting, leaning against the open doors. She seemed relieved to see him.

“My lord,” she said, bowing deeply.

“My… my lady?” Patton replied hesitantly, bowing back. “Thank you for looking after Logan. Do you know where Roman is? We’re looking for him next.”

Sylvia tilted her head, staring into space, before her head snapped to the left, and after a couple moments, they heard the pounding of feet, and Roman was sprinting down the road towards them.

“Here,” Sylvia murmured, and she took a few steps towards Roman as he closed the distance, throwing his arms around her without a word.

Patton hung back for the moment, wringing his hands, waiting, and Roman took a sharp breath as Sylvia’s arms encircled him, and she lifted him off the ground in a _big_ hug that he seemed to need, if the way the tension just leaked from him was any indication.

They clung to each other tight, before Sylvia gently set him down on his feet.

“We need to get to Remus,” Roman said, his voice tight.

“I…” Sylvia went to repeat what she’d been telling Logan, but she bowed her head. “It goes against my conscience, my prince, to send anyone into _that,_ but if you command it, then it shall be done.”

Roman rubbed his face.

“It must be done,” he stated plainly. “I promise we will be careful.”

“All of them?” Sylvia asked, nodding at the three in the gutter as well as Patton, standing there.

“Yes,” Roman sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, my prince,” Sylvia murmured. “I see your companions have not yet settled. Perhaps you should see to them.”

Roman glanced again at Logan, whose eyes were swimming with unshed tears, at Virgil, who was clinging to Logan and Deceit like if he’d let go, he’d break, and at Deceit, who was staring at them all with such a blank face it couldn’t be good.

Roman wordlessly walked over, patting Patton on the arm as he went.

As Roman’s hand brushed his skin, all Patton was aware of was just how _tired_ the prince really was.

He shivered the lethargy from his bones as Roman knelt down in front of his friends, talking to them quietly, and Patton turned away as the clarity returned to their eyes.

He rubbed his arms and smiled at Sylvia as best he could, who frowned in gentle concern at him.

“Here,” she said softly, stepping forward with open arms, and Patton blinked at her before he could think to protest because he couldn’t take any more extra emotions.

But her arms closed around him, and… all Patton felt was his own feelings.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice catching. “Is it because you’re a… a figment? A construct? That I can’t feel you?”

Sylvia hummed.

Tears beaded in Patton’s eyes. He’d never had such a _quiet_ hug. He might have to spend more time in the Imagination, at this rate.

“It is time,” she murmured to him, and Patton shuddered in her arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

She set him down on his feet, careful and gentle. Then she turned to Roman, who had Deceit, Virgil and Logan with him, and Virgil was pointedly staring at the ground, Deceit studying Patton’s face closely, and Logan who kept sneaking glances at Virgil.

“We need to go,” Roman said, and Patton hadn’t heard him be so curt before. “Sylv, you ready?”

“Come help me, my lord,” she murmured, and stooped to enter the stable in long, loping strides.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels a race against the clock. Patton discovers something new about himself.

They flew on pegasi again. Roman went to offer his friends their own steed each, but only Patton seemed willing to ride alone.

“Alright,” Roman mumbled, and he started to weave saddles out of the air, and he whistled to the winged horses. Three of them trotted forward, and Roman immediately started fixing saddles, saddles that looked like they were designed to hold two people, onto their backs.

“Logan, Virgil,” he commanded, and without thinking they stepped forward at the order. “You’re riding together. Figure out who wants to go in front. You won’t have to steer.”

Roman quickly paused to press a kiss into the pegasus’ nose – Patton recognised it as Aurea, the golden pegasus who carried Roman on their last adventure. Then he moved on to Arget, yes it was Arget, the silver one who had carried Patton, and started fastening another double-saddle.

“Deceit,” Roman ordered once more, glancing at him. “You will ride with me.”

Deceit swallowed and nodded. Roman pressed a kiss into Arget’s nose, before he hurried over to the third pegasus, whose coat was shimmering with a bronze glow.

“Patton,” he gestured Patton over. “This is Aeneus.”

Patton nearly choked on his breath, and that drew several stares. Roman paused for a moment, confusion in his eyes.

“It,” he said haltingly. “It’s derivative of the Latin word for bronze.”

“Oh,” Patton said faintly. “It’s a good name.”

 _He doesn’t know._ Patton thought he told him. Perhaps Roman didn’t remember?

Roman’s lips pursed, but turned away and started fixing a saddle, a normal, one-man saddle onto the pegasus’ back. “You okay to ride on your own?”

“Yeah,” Patton said, letting Roman guide him and help him into the saddle. “I’m good.”

“Great,” Roman said, and he clapped his hands once, before rushing around and helping the others up. Virgil ended up tucking in behind Logan, and Roman helped Deceit up onto Arget’s back before swinging up in front of him, taking Arget’s reins and walking the pegasus in a tight circle so he could see Sylvia.

“We’ll be back,” he said quietly.

“Be safe,” she told him.

“We’ll be quick.”

“Of course, my prince.”

Sylvia bowed deeply, and Roman nodded back, before wheeling Arget around once more, beginning to trot, to canter down the road, and whistling again. Unbidden, the other pegasi began to follow.

* * *

Soon, they were all soaring, in a small V formation with Roman at the head. Patton pulled up alongside, studying Roman’s face. His expression was hard-set. His eyes were fastened firmly onto the horizon, and Patton went to open his mouth, to say something, to make a joke, to ease the tension, anything, when the wind suddenly picked up, a mighty backwind that sent the pegasi soaring onwards, silencing whatever Patton was going to try.

Patton frowned, but turned back forward, as Roman wished.

It was clear that even though all their steeds were powerful, Patton’s ride was faster. Purely, he imagined, because Aeneus was only burdened with one rider.

His pegasus seemed hyperactive, too, constantly diving and swooping, and even barrel-rolling around the other two. Patton squeaked in dismay the first few times at it, but after trying to literally rein the horse in, it was obvious this pegasus had a mind of his own, and Patton just had to tighten his grip with his knees and pray.

As Aeneus diving _in front_ of the others to begin a loop-the-loop, Patton caught a glimpse of the others’ faces. Virgil looked terrified for him. Deceit was watching wide-eyed. Logan looked impassive, but his grip on Aurea’s reins was _very tight._

But… Roman was smiling.

If not only a little. But it was a small smile, an ease of tension, and it struck Patton what the steed must be up to. All of Roman’s creations wanted to help Roman, make him feel better, feel loved, and his pegasus must be doing his best to _do_ that.

So Patton stopped fighting it. Even if it made the world spin around him and he had to cling to Aeneus’ neck tightly at times.

After an hour of this, Patton was genuinely feeling queasy, but he loathed to ask the pegasus to stop, now he knew the plan.

The wind eased for a moment, and Roman called to them.

“Aeneus!” he sing-songed. “That’s enough, sweet. You’ll make Patton sick.”

His voice was a lot lighter. Aeneus whinnied back, before he rolled off back into formation, Patton clinging to his mane tightly and dazedly giggling as he waited for his head to stop spinning.

Roman turned and looked at him, and then Patton felt a touch at his mind.

_‘You okay?’_

Patton smiled, shooting a wink back.

_‘Yeah, I’m okay. I guess Aeneus wanted to give you a show!’_

He felt a rumble of appreciation from Roman, a shower of amusement, but it wasn’t enough to wipe away the intense worry just under the surface.

 _‘Hey,’_ Patton said quietly. _‘We’ll get there in time, okay? Remus will be fine.’_

 _‘What if we don’t like what we see?’_ Roman mused quietly, voice calm even though Patton could feel the anxiety bubbling away under the surface. _‘What if_ you _don’t?’_

Patton accepted the blow to his ego with a wince, before sighing and shrugging.

 _‘That shouldn’t change that we’re here to help him,’_ he shot back. _‘He… I… I’m aware that Remus’, shall we say, uh… um. That I might be…’_

Patton hung his head, well aware of Roman’s eyes burning into him. ‘ _Look, Roman,’_ he continued, _‘…I don’t know what to_ say _. I know I might be scared, or disgusted, or squicked, or_ whatever _by what Remus makes or says or does… but that shouldn’t change how I feel about him.’_

 _‘And how_ do _you feel about him?’_

Patton’s heart leapt right up into his throat unbidden, and he scrambled for words that weren’t coming as memories began to rise – horrible memories of Remus eating things that shouldn’t be eaten and of Remus painting terrible and graphic things and describing such awful scenarios and more, but… also memories of Remus’ soft smile and Remus’ bright laughter and Remus’ thoughtfulness when he helped Roman and _Remus pressing a kiss against his cheek!_

Patton fought for words, and realised with _dread_ that Roman was privy to all this. He slammed up his walls, trying to withhold his emotions even as guilt began to choke him.

_‘Oh, Pat…’_

_‘Stop,’_ Patton was shaking his head, pressing his hands to his temples. _‘Roman, stop!’_

 _‘Do you want me to stop because you are uncomfortable about my brother?’_ Roman asked, and Patton could hear how Roman’s tone sharpened in his head. _‘Or because you want to give me an answer?’_

_‘…Roman.’_

_‘I want an answer, Patton.’_

_‘Maybe I don’t have one, alright?’_

Patton could feel the prince studying his emotions, and he hated it, his skin crawling as Roman evaluated him inside and out.

 _“Stop it!”_ he snapped, both in his head and externally, getting some sharp and concerned glances from the others. _“Get out of my head!”_

Roman could see the confliction clear as day, and it took him an extra moment to realise how much discomfort he’d caused.

_‘Pat-’_

“Stop!”

Patton couldn’t control himself as he grabbed Aeneus’ reins and yanked him away, and the pegasus obeyed, soaring off to the right and away from the others, and Patton hunched over, choking back terrible tears as he heard Roman trying to yell his name, voice echoing across the landscape and in his skull, getting fainter with distance.

_“Patton!”_

* * *

“What did you do?” Virgil yelled at him, and Roman was staring after his friend with a distraught look on his face.

“Fuck,” he said eloquently. “Fuck, we need him.”

“We love him, too,” Logan said stiffly. “We need to follow him.”

“We’re wasting time,” Deceit pointed out sharply.

“If we are to confront Remus, I feel it is best that both the centres of his confliction should be there,” Logan shot back, fixing Deceit with a hard stare which the side tried to avoid like the plague.

“I,” Roman started, before he knocked on his own forehead hard, face scrunched with dismay. “Fuck! I can’t do this.”

“Hey,” Deceit said softly, looping an arm around Roman’s middle. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Roman growled, and wordlessly, both pegasi changed directions to begin the chase. “No, it’s not.”

* * *

Patton was gasping for air, flying off _somewhere anywhere away alone leave me alone please god please anywhere but here_.

Deceit was right. Deceit had always been right. Patton just hurt people. Roman was so disappointed in him. What was he _doing_ ; going and trying to confront Remus like this? He was going to wreck more than he’d fix.

He should know better by now. He really should.

He was crying. Pathetic weak stupid he shouldn’t be the one crying. But he was. His vision was blurring, and the world was tinting _green._ He felt clammy and awful. Some of the grieving sounds forcing their way out of his mouth sounded awful much like ribbits and croaks.

He was scared. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

“Put me down!” he shouted wildly, fingers skating uselessly over Aeneus’ broad neck. “Put me-! Land!”

Aeneus immediately banked down, circling in wide arcs until his hooves touched the grass and the pegasus had to trot a few more steps before he came to a halt but Patton had already all but thrown himself off the pegasus’ back, landing on his knees on soft grass, doubling over as he tried to breathe.

He felt so _alone._ He just wanted…   
he didn’t know.

Aeneus trotted around him in a circle, nosing at his hair with anxious little whinnies, and Patton lifted his face to try and appease the horse. The pegasus licked his face as nuzzled into his shoulder, ripping a wet little laugh out of him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Another lick.

“Alright, alright.”

Patton got to his feet, keeping a hand on Aeneus’ neck, and walked. They crested the hill, and Patton purposefully did not look up to the sky. If they found him, they found him. If they didn’t, they didn’t.

There was a small lake some distance away, and Aeneus made a beeline for it, Patton stumbling after the pegasus with a startled laugh.

“Don’t leave me behind,” he called, though the pegasus continued onwards, before finally reaching the edge of the lake, stooping to drink. Patton finally caught up, taking a moment to catch his breath. It rushed out of him in a heartbeat when Patton caught sight of his reflection.

What had happened to him?! He fell to his knees and tugged at his _skin it was green and clammy, his eyes were yellow, he gasped for air and heard himself croak, watched his throat expand and retract like a frog,_ and Patton took off his glasses and put them back on, just in case.

Nope, still frog.

“Wh-“ he tried to ask, but his voice cut out on himself. “I… I d-don’t…”

He looked down at his hands, and noticed green there, noticed webbing, and he sucked in a shrill and pinched breath of air at the sight.

“What’s happening to me?” he asked, meeting his _yellow eyes_ in the water’s reflection. His pupils were even different shapes.

Is this what had happened those other times? When he’d seen green? Is this what Remus had seen when he’d touched Patton’s neck?

Patton… looked horrible.

He buried his head in his hands and hunched over, trying not to cry because crying would be weak, and giving in to weakness anyway.

“Frog,” he sobbed quietly. “Why a _frog?”_

It started to rain.

Aeneus came up to him, nudged him with his nose, and when Patton didn’t uncurl, settled in to sit around him, covering him with a wing to shield Patton from the falling rain. It was... warm, in the very least. Surprisingly comfortable. The rising and falling of the pegasus' breathing was steady and soothing, and lulled Patton into a weird sort of peace. And, well, if Patton fell asleep like that, then that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey im gonna be real chief today's a rough day im tired i want to produce Something so im yeeting like three chapters up now. sorry for no content it's been egksfdgjsdlfhsodiphdfblb
> 
> if only essays were so easy to write.
> 
> also if ive done my maths write this is either 69k works (ayyy) or! we've hit 70,000 words lads can i get a wahoo


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Logan argue. Roman does his best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mothers and fuckers of the jury......................... HAPPY NEW YEAR  
> we made it POG
> 
> and for my new years miracle im giving you a chapter or two   
> stay safe out there love you all

Roman had them flying in circles over the rolling fields looking for Patton for three hours, before Deceit finally tugged on his sleeve.

“I know,” Roman said quietly, without Deceit speaking a word. “I _know.”_

Wordlessly, his pegasus turned around, wheeling in the air to head towards Logan and Virgil, who were both looking exhausted and irritable.

“We need to land,” Roman called as soon as they were in shouting range. “…I’ve tired our steeds out. And all of you, too, by the looks of it.”

Logan closed his eyes, and looked on the verge of ripping Roman to shreds, but he nodded in agreement.

“Where are we going to stay?” Virgil called back, glancing around at the space below them. “…Do you have more cities? Or are we like, roughing it?”

“I…” Roman shook his head, and guided Arget downwards, Aurea following close behind. “I’m too tired to make a town. I’m sorry. But I’ll make you something comfortable, I promise.”

“We’re just going to abandon Patton?” Logan asked frostily as the pegasi’s hooves touched the grass.

Roman closed his eyes, trying to swallow down his pain. “We’re going to take a short break, at least,” he replied, voice even. “I can’t push the pegasi any harder right now, Logan.”

“These aren’t even _real_ ,” Logan snapped suddenly, and he had jumped off the pegasus’ back and had started to pace. “And Patton _is._ Or, as real as we _can_ be when we are just parts of a whole. Are you seriously putting fiction over your friend?”

“No!” Roman exclaimed, also jumping down, leaving Deceit to fend for himself in the matter of getting off this very tall horse’s back. “I’m doing everything in my power to push this along!”

“Your _power_ must be more limited than I thought!” Logan threw his hands in the air. “You tell me of the limitless possibility of the Imagination! Then why is this all going wrong?!”

“I don’t know if you’ve _noticed,_ ” Roman folded his arms across his chest, staring Logan down, “but I have to consciously control _everything_ if I want to change it like that, otherwise it just subconsciously generates, and I do not have the mental fortitude, at least right now, to _do that._ ”

“Do you ever?” Logan snarked back.

Roman growled, before turning on his heel and tugging at his hair, obviously trying to keep himself reined in. “I’m trying not to _hurt myself_ this time _,”_ he said through gritted teeth.

“So you’re just putting yourself over them then, hm?” Logan goaded, and he had stalked closer, Roman could hear his nearing footsteps until a hand was on his shoulder and turning him around. “Over Remus, over Patton? You think you’re better than them?”

Roman _shoved_ Logan, sending him backwards into the dirt.

“Don’t touch me!” he screamed. “I’m _nothing_ and I know it! I want to help! I’m _trying_ to help! I can’t help if I’m unconscious! But you know what? You demand it, _O Logan?_ Fine! _Fine._ ”

Roman took three steps back and shook out his hands, before extending them to the sky, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Roman,” Deceit called softly, still stuck on the back of the pegasus, which was shying away from Roman in fear.

“So be it,” the prince declared frostily.

Then the world around them began to shift. The ground itself rippled beneath them, shifting like wet clay, before flattening out. Paths traced themselves into the ground, and the pegasi startled as buildings, stone buildings rose from the newly-packed-down dirt. Thatched roofs wove themselves into existence. Lampposts emerged from the ground, casting the darkening sky with a warm glow. And by the time Roman was dropping his hands, a tiny town had sprung up around them, and Roman was swaying on his feet.

“I… I can’t…” he fumbled out, before he staggered off to the side to catch himself on a wall or something, and Arget lurched forward to give him something to lean on, Deceit along for the ride.

Roman took a moment, before wheezing out, “I… can’t make people right now… but there is food in the tavern.”

Logan was still on his ass, now with his back pressed up against a well. There was a new look in his eyes. It could’ve been fear. It might’ve been regret.

“Roman,” he said quietly, but the prince was already turning away to help Deceit down from Arget’s back, finally.

He staggered around to help Virgil, before taking Arget and Aurea’s reins. “I’m going to find the stable,” he stated, his voice suddenly gravelly with use. “Go rest up. Don’t wait for me.”

He pointed one now-shaking hand at the building across the new courtyard, clearly a tavern, before shuffling away down the main road.

Logan picked himself up, dusted himself off, and immediately went inside, but Virgil glanced at him, and saw his lips were pinched together tightly, and his eyes were abnormally bright. Deceit followed suit, glancing after Roman as the prince disappeared around a corner, and shivered. Virgil took him by the elbow and lead him inside as well, wanting nothing more than to disappear into a nice bed around about now.

* * *

Roman found a stable, nudging the door open with his foot, and forcing himself onwards even though his vision was blurring.

He was more supported by the pegasi than he was leading them, and he was on his knees before he knew it, in a comfortable and warm stall with nice straw on the floor.

One more thing.

He brushed aside some of the hay and scooped up handfuls of dirt. It was nice dirt, lots of clay in it, good for moulding into shapes. He sculpted two little birds, and with a kiss on the head, they were real - shaking off their dirt shells and cooing at him, eyes bright with life.

“Hm,” Roman smiled, petting one on the head softly, before doing it to the other. “Aren’t you cute.”

He then snapped into existence two pieces of parchment. For one of them, he knew he didn’t have the headspace to draw, so he closed his eyes and imagined a birds’ eye view of the area superimposed on the page. When he opened his eyes, there was a nice, detailed map.

He rolled it up and pushed it towards one of the birds, who fluttered into the air and took it in its feet. “Go find Lord Patton,” he instructed quietly. “Give him that, okay?”

The bird trilled in response, and flew out the door.

Roman’s eyelids nearly fluttered closed, but he reached for the next piece of parchment and scrawled out a letter he hoped was legible, before rolling it up and giving it to the second bird. “To Duke Remus, little one,” he murmured. “Fly fast, and fly true.”

The bird trilled as well, taking the letter and flying out the door as well. Roman watched it go, before his efforts hit him in a rush, and he was leaning back against Aurea’s steady warmth.

“I need…” he cut himself off with a yawn, “to go back… to the inn.”

Aurea tucked his wing over Roman, curling up around him. Roman sighed, and gently tried to push his wing up. He got to his feet, before the world went dark for a moment, and he was sprawled on the floor instead.

“Alright,” he murmured, “I see your point.”

The pegasi nickered at him, and Roman dragged himself back towards them, not caring about the dirt that must be ruining his outfit. He settled between them, curling up, and letting them drape a wing over him.

He was out like a light.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton returns. Everyone takes a stroll on eggshells. Remus gets Roman's letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters tonight - to make up for my radio silence. hope this isn't too cringe or whatever   
> it's 3am lmao dont' be like me kids get some sleep

Patton was woken by Aeneus lifting his wing, and something pulling lightly at his hair.

He sat up, looking in the lake to see that whatever nightmare had brought about that froggy visage that had taunted him last night had ended, and he was just plain old Patton now. He then noticed the bird fluttering in front of his face.

He extended his hands, and it dropped a scroll in them, before fluttering down and settling on his knee. It was a dove; like those ones Roman had made, that one time when he was joking about him and-

Patton cut himself off sharply by opening the scroll, and discovering it was a map.

“Oh,” he said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

It looked like something right out of a fantasy movie. And the bird strutted over the outstretched parchment and gently pecked at what looked to be a little settlement.

“Is that where the others are?” Patton asked, confused. The bird just pecked again. “Well, I’ll take that as a yes.”

Aeneus got to his hooves, flexing his wings, and went off to trot a lap around the lake as Patton tried to gather himself, figuring out where they needed to go. And as soon as the pegasus was back, they took off in hopes of reuniting.

Patton was feeling a little sick with anxiety. He didn’t understand what had happened to him, and he hoped it didn’t happen again because that’d be horrible to try and explain to the others.  
He didn’t want them to think he was a freak. They already thought he was useless and overly emotional and indecisive as it was.

He tried not to linger on those thoughts anymore, petting the bird that was nestled in his lap as they soared downwards, landing a little outside the town before trotting down the dirt road.

He wasn’t looking forward to this.  
Especially not as he approached the town, and saw on a park bench outside the tavern Deceit sitting and waiting, eyes fixed on him.

Patton’s mouth dried out, and he was suddenly on the verge of tears again, but he forced himself to buck up as Aeneus paused, Deceit looking up at where Patton was still mounted.  
“Um,” Patton said. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Deceit said back, voice clipped. “Hope you had a good time there, Patton.”

The bitterness stung. Deceit stared him down and Patton let him, averting his gaze. He opened his mouth to defend himself, before closing it. No one liked excuses, after all. He dismounted, and squeaked as the bird started fluttering around his head, tugging at his hair.

“What?!” Patton demanded, his patience beginning to wear thin, but instead of batting the bird away, he let it lead him, and let Deceit laugh about it at the sight of him being dragged off by the hair.

The bird took him down the road, around the corner, and into a stable, and it was there that the two other pegasi raised their heads, looking up at him, before lifting their wings to reveal Roman, still asleep.

“Oh,” Patton murmured, and he hurried forward to gather Roman up in his arms, the pegasi watching him closely but making no move to hinder him. “Thank you.”

The bird landed in the rafters, now calm. Patton turned around, with his armful of prince, to come face to face with a surprised-looking Deceit, and Aeneus.

“Stay here,” Patton told Aeneus, jerking his head towards a stall.

“I’m not going to do that,” Deceit spat back, offended.

“I was _talking,”_ Patton snapped, before Deceit could chew him out any more, “to the _horse,_ Deceit.”

Deceit stared, before blanking his expression and closing his mouth. “Of course,” he mumbled. “Of course you were.”

Patton carried Roman back to the inn, Deceit trailing behind him, and Roman had started to cling to him even in sleep.  
Deceit did get the door for them, though, which was nice of him.

As he entered, it struck Patton how void of life this place was, especially compared to Roman’s city back by his entrance to the Imagination. The only proof of life was the roaring fire, and Logan and Virgil sitting around it on plush couches, Virgil idly prodding the burning logs with the iron poker every couple of moments. They looked up at him when Deceit opened the door, and Patton wasn’t prepared for how both their faces melted in relief.

Patton didn’t say anything. He just shuffled closer, before laying Roman out on one of the sofas, wincing to himself when Roman wouldn’t let go of his shirt. He quickly changed tack and slid in behind Roman, cradling the prince to his chest and leaning back. Roman curled up against him and started to softly snore.

The silence was palpable. Logan glanced at Roman, then up to Patton’s face. “Where’d you find him?” he asked, his eyes outstandingly guilty.

“In the stables,” Patton replied, his voice low, and he brushed Roman’s hair out of his face.

“…How’d you get here?” Virgil asked, and Patton looked up to see Virgil all but hunched over, his hands clasped tightly.

“I flew,” Patton half-smiled, before shaking his head. “I woke up to find a map. I assume Roman sent it.”

Deceit sat down sharply, holding himself primly beside Patton, like he wasn’t allowed to relax. Or perhaps that he didn’t want to relax beside Patton. Patton shifted in his seat, biting his lip. Fair enough, probably. It wasn’t like Patton’s track record was great.

Roman mumbled something, and Patton felt his hands tighten against his shirt, before Roman was slowly opening his eyes and blinking blearily up at him.

“Hiya, kiddo,” Patton said softly. “Good morning.”

“Pat,” Roman said hoarsely, and Patton was shocked by just how tired his voice sounded, like he’d been screaming. “I’m sorry, Pat.”

“It’s okay,” Patton smiled sadly. “…You’re right, anyway. I should be the one who’s sorry. And I’m sorry for running away. That was… stupid.”

Roman shook his head, and pressed his face into Patton’s shirt for a moment, before sitting up. He stretched a little, before swinging his legs around, and the first person his eyes fell on was Logan.

Patton watched the two tense, watched Roman go pale.

“I’m sorry,” they both said in unison. Logan’s hands were gripping his own knees. Roman was hugging himself tightly.

“…Are you well?” Logan asked quietly, making Patton frown at how Roman didn’t reply right away.

“I’m well enough,” the prince replied. “I… we should continue.”

 _It wasn’t supposed to be so complicated._ Patton had a feeling this was his fault. They got to their feet, and Virgil was pointedly staring at the floor. Suddenly, Logan piped up, staring at Roman.

“For the record… I do not actually think you’re stupid, and I’m sorry for insinuating thus. And… I’m sorry for pushing you so hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman shook his head, rubbing his arms. “I should’ve been pushing harder anyway. You’re right.”

“I’m not,” Logan came over and took him by the shoulder. “I’m _not._ I was angry, and I said things that were blatantly untrue.”

“You don’t lie,” Roman mumbled to himself.

“Falsehood,” Logan called him out, voice cracking. “I…”

He took a breath in, and let that statement stand as it was. Roman patted his hand in understanding, and they walked out the door together, leaving Deceit, Virgil and Patton standing there.

Patton was staring after them, about to ask what happened, then closing his mouth because it was relatively simple to figure out.

“Pat,” Virgil said, and all of a sudden, he was at Patton’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Patton made himself smile. “Just peachy, kiddo.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, and Patton’s resolve nearly weakened, when he accidentally caught Deceit’s eye. Deceit, who was staring him down, challenging him.  
His mouth dried out.   
“Just peachy,” he repeated, quieter this time. “Let’s go? We have some ground still to cover.”

He could feel Deceit’s eyes boring into the back of his head as him and Virgil left the building. Never before had Patton wished _so hard_ that he was anyone else than this very moment in time.

* * *

Remus woke up to something pulling his hair. He blearily opened his eyes, sat up from where he was still sprawled out across his bed in his royal chambers, and blinked in surprise to see… a bird? A dove? A dove. With a scroll. It dropped the scroll in his lap and flew out the window.

White doves… were Roman’s signature. What the fuck did _he_ want? Remus growled at the thought, but opened the scroll anyway.

And he squinted at it, pulling the thing in close. What the fuck? He could barely read it. He leant forward, catching the light of the rising sun as it spilled over his balcony and across his room as he tried to decipher this awful handwriting.

He spent fifteen minutes trying to read the damn thing, before he gave up with a muttered curse. He summoned a quill with a snap of his fingers, and wrote across the bottom in his most careful handwriting a delicate ‘what the fuck bro?’ before snapping his fingers again. The bird that had flown away just before suddenly appeared before him, falling onto his bed with a distressed squawk.

“Yeah, I know, I know, it’s awful here,” Remus rolled his eyes. “Just, take this to Roman, will you? You don’t have to come back here ever again, I promise.”

The bird quickly snatched up the scroll and took to the air, and it was off before Remus could blink.

“Bitch,” he muttered to himself, before rolling over and actually crawling under the blankets. Why was Roman sending him letters? He didn’t need Roman’s help.

…Though, did Roman need _his_ help? If his handwriting looked like that, it could be that he was fucked up somewhere. Did he need to follow the bird? Was Roman drunk? Was Roman hurt? Was Roman dying? Was Roman-?

Remus gave himself a hard slap across the face and got out of bed pointedly. Fuck, all this time to avoid his fucking thoughts and it took one measly piece of paper to render all his efforts worthless.

It wasn’t paper, though. It was parchment. And parchment was made out of animal skin. Did Roman know that? He should absolutely tell Roman that the next time they met. Remus bet it’d make his brother squirm.

Remus fetched a gown out of his wardrobe, a silky green thing that tied closed in the front that he chose to leave hanging open, and he wandered out of his room and down into the ballroom.

Just as he’d hoped, the… ‘party’ was still going strong. And before long Remus had his back against a wall, teeth on his neck, a tongue down his throat, hands everywhere he could ever want them, and the sensations quieting his thoughts once more.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to Remus' castle. Patton leads the charge. First step? Make it to the castle doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be aware there's a lot of uhhhhhh non-graphic sort-of depictions of sex in this (and the next chapter too), kinda similar to what those little aside-y bits were in earlier chapters? But now, well, they've just reached Remus' castle... so....  
> proceed with caution i guess.
> 
> also hi! been a while. What a lovely tone to start up again on /hj

To Patton, it was very clear that everything had fallen apart while he was gone – and probably directly _because_ he had gone – and the rest of the trip certainly drove this point home.

Roman looked haggard. And Patton could tell he was pushing himself too hard, but fortunately, Deceit had noticed too, and he managed to quietly convince Roman to conserve his strength, at least. Patton had watched them for a while, before forcing himself to look away when Deceit’s head turned towards him.

He tightened his hands in Anaeus’ mane and closed his eyes, before concentrating very hard. He wasn’t really sure how to do it, but if Roman could do it to him, he could probably do it to Roman.

He succeeded, Patton reckoned, as he managed to reach out to Roman’s mind. And it was clearly Roman’s, from the huge wave of exhaustion that hit him.

 _‘Kiddo,’_ he said softly, not opening his eyes, and not giving Roman time to shut him out. _‘I just want to remind you… you’re doing so good, you’re doing enough, I’m proud of you, and I love you, alright?’_

Roman didn’t reply, though the swirling cocktail of surprise and confusion and guilt and gratitude and relief was answer enough for Patton.

 _‘I just thought… with everything that’s going on, it’d be nice to get a reminder,’_ Patton finished lamely, before severing the contact before he did something stupid, like cry.

* * *

It took them another few hours (and Patton had long since come to realise that he’d probably never understand how distance worked in the Imagination) to reach Remus’ kingdom, and even from up in the air, it was clear something was… going on.

As they swooped lower, Patton realised there was… woo, an _awful lot_ of uh, _horizontal mambo_ being done, just… out in the streets. And before he could control himself, Patton had guided his pegasus away to attempt to gather his thoughts. To his surprise, the others followed him, and Roman directed them to land on the other side of a hill, with the sights out of eyeline, but unfortunately, the sounds still present in the distance.

“Um,” Roman started with a wince as everyone tried to ignore what was going on.

“Fuck,” Virgil agreed, and he pulled his hood down over his eyes.

Logan seemed – _outwardly_ \- the least phased, though Deceit was trying very hard to look nonplussed. The look of calm didn’t quite reach his eyes.

And Patton’s skin was crawling as he realised everyone’s eyes fell on _him._ Mister Catholic Purity and all that. He set his lips into a firm line and closed his eyes.

 _It’s just bodies,_ he told himself firmly. _There’s nothing wrong with sex. It’s okay that I’m uncomfortable but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. We just need to find Remus and set things right._

“Okay,” Patton rubbed his arms before shaking out his limbs. “Okay. We need a plan.”

“Are you going to be alright in there, Pat?” Virgil asked him softly.

“I’m going to be fine,” Patton shot back with such a level of self-assuredness that everyone seemed to believe him. “… Are you?”

Virgil took a moment to stand up straighter, steeling himself. “I will be,” he agreed.

“If anyone wants to wait here,” Patton declared, casting his eyes around the group, “you can. No questions asked. No shame. No hard feelings. And if you need to turn back at any time while we’re in there? No questions asked. We meet here.”

The sudden level of authority in his voice had people blinking at him, but Logan was slowly nodding along, Roman’s lips were being tugged upwards into a smile of agreement, and something strange was glinting in Deceit’s eyes, but he did not argue.

“So… I’m guessing Remus will be at the heart of that?” he continued, and suddenly he was turning to Deceit, to Roman, to the two people who knew Remus best. Deceit shrugged, but the set of his jaw gave Patton the impression that he was right. Roman raked his hand through his hair, and nodded slowly.

“I think so,” he said softly. “I-I… yeah, I think so.”

He didn’t sound very certain. But how could he be?

“Alright,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “We need a formation, I think. I… I’m the one who needs to talk to him, properly, so I should probably lead, unless anyone has any reason for going first?”

“I’ll take up the rear,” Roman added.

“I’ll walk with you,” Deceit nodded to Patton, who nodded back.

“I will go second-to-last,” Logan offered.

“I guess I’m in the middle,” Virgil shrugged, sounding indifferent but looking relieved.

“Alright,” Patton repeated, and he wrung his hands for a second, before gathering them all into a circle, and sticking his hand in the middle. “We got this! We’re gonna make it… through, um, through the… th-the crowd, and go up the castle, and find Remus, talk to him _properly_ , and… hopefully convince him to come home.”

“And if we can’t?” Virgil asked, ever the realist.

Patton frowned down at his hand, which was still in the middle of the circle by itself. “Well,” he said slowly, “then I suppose we don’t leave without him.”

After a moment of emptiness, Deceit put his hand in the middle too. The silken glove was soft over Patton’s hand. “Sounds like as good a plan as any,” he drawled.

Roman put his hand in the middle. Logan and Virgil glanced at each other, before Virgil put his hand in.

“C’mon,” he nodded to the hand-pile.

“What’s the point of this?” Logan asked, confusedly even as he put his hand in.

“Teambuilding,” Roman smiled.

“Teambuilding?” Logan echoed. “Now? That’s…” He ran his hands through his hair. “…Whatever.”

Patton smiled once, extra-bright, before squaring his shoulders and marching onwards, over the hill, onto… whatever awaited them next.

* * *

Honestly? He could keep his eyes on the ground or fixed on a point in the distance. The smells, which were intense at first, flattened out into something that he could tolerate.

The one sense that really just overwhelmed Patton was _sound,_ because there wasn’t a lot that he could do to ignore it.

So he kept his eyes up at the tip-top tower of Remus’ castle and tried his best not to gag. Behind him, he could hear Virgil not quite succeeding at the not-gagging thing, and then Logan murmuring to him. Patton couldn’t afford to turn around, or he’d lose his nerve. So he kept marching on, swallowing hard every few minutes as he accidentally made eye contact.

The weird thing was, though, was this; as they passed, the crowd seemed to fall still, and slowly disperse.

In fact, it wasn’t just the presence of the others, it seemed, as Roman and Logan at the back didn’t seem to make a difference, but it was…

_Patton._

Remus’ creations slowly halted their exploits, their eyes all falling on Morality as he led the charge, and they all disengaged from each other, took a tiny bow, before seemingly melting away into the shadows.

As they went, Patton’s heart was in his throat, because… was this Remus’ reaction to seeing _him?_ Conscious or otherwise? Because he’d seen the look of shame in these creations’ eyes before – over and over in the Duke.

_I’m not going to be able to fix this, am I?_

Patton didn’t stop. Because he didn’t know what he would do if he did. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that a green tinge was creeping over his vision, and he suddenly found himself very glad that his back was to his family.

But before too long, they were at the castle doors. Patton paused, hand on the aged wood, listening to the loud, throbbing music on the inside, and the wind whistling through now-empty streets on the outside.

_I’m ruining everything I touch._

This castle was going to crumble under his very hands before he knew it, Patton was sure.

“Okay,” he said quietly, pausing for a minute – just a minute. “We all doing okay? Role call.”

“Here,” Roman called.  
“Present,” Logan added.  
“Uh-huh,” Virgil whispered hoarsely.   
Deceit just sort-of hummed in reply, but that was enough.

“Okay,” Patton nodded, and he turned to look at his weary and unsettled companions. “God knows what’s beyond his door, so prepare for anything, I guess. We’ll look for an upstairs, try and find his room. Everyone, either grab someone’s hand, or clothes. We form a chain, alright?”

Without argument, everyone did as Patton asked, looking at him for more instructions, and fear began to choke Patton as he realised how much power he held right now.

“Great,” he smiled thinly, pushing it all down instead, and as Deceit reached out to offer his hand, Patton took it without hesitation.

Initially, he was bracing for the flood of emotions that usually came with contact, but… well, for one, Deceit’s emotions were muted as it was, and… he was wearing gloves. The lack of skin-to-skin contact made the biggest difference that Patton really hadn’t expected – though the question remained whether that was the gloves’ properties, or Deceit’s – but none-the-less, Patton was _very_ grateful. He probably couldn’t stand any extra emotions right now.

The way Deceit’s eyes were glittering, perhaps Deceit had guessed that was the case. Maybe that was why he volunteered to follow immediately behind him.

Patton smiled again, and turned back to the door.

“We ready?” he called back to his friends. “If anyone needs to turn back… remember, no questions asked.”

There was a moment of pause, before Virgil spoke up, “Let’s go.”

Patton took a steadying breath and pushed the door open.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally find Remus. Everyone tries to reason with him. Lilypadton makes his official debut. And really, what's a little more heartbreak, when all this is over?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK THIS CHAPTER IS NEARLY 4K WORDS LONG BC THERE WAS JUST NOWHERE TO STOP
> 
> so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> this is probably one of the most important chapters of this fic so far. Definitely feels like a milestone. The sex-warning at the start of last chapter applies to the start of this one too.
> 
> alright LETS GO BABEYYYY

The main thing that assaulted Patton was _loud loud loud!_ But at least, the blasting music drowned out all the other sounds Patton really didn’t want to think about, and he quickly averted his eyes as he accidentally watched one creation practically shoving its tongue down another’s throat.

Deceit squeezed his hand. Oh yeah. He had to move.

Patton kicked himself into gear and started to walk, through the ballroom. This time, the creations hardly noticed them; didn’t move out of the way, didn’t even look at them, and Patton had to duck and weave, pulling the others along a winding path with too many close calls for his liking. When they reached the top of the stairs, Patton found a convenient pot plant to pause over, just in case his gagging turned into anything more unpleasant to deal with.

Roman was cringing, trying to magic some stains out of his jacket, before Patton watched him give up and wrench the thing off, and leave it abandoned on the ground, before setting it on fire with a snap of his fingers.   
“I never want to think about this ever again, and I will if I keep that coat,” Roman mumbled his explanation. “I know my brother. Those stains aren’t coming out.”

That was explanation enough.

It was somewhat easy to figure out where Remus’ room was, because Patton just followed the most opulent decorations up to a soaring third-floor landing. The thumping music was quieter here, and there were less creations in the corridors, but still enough to remind Patton what was going on. But soon, they found a door grand enough and green enough to maybe, just _maybe,_ be Remus’ bedroom door.

“Thoughts on that?” Patton nodded towards it, letting Deceit finally take his hand back.

“Looks like Remus alright,” Virgil agreed, his voice quiet and raspy, and Patton turned to see him shaking out his hands, cracking his knuckles, eyes fixed on the door and nowhere else.

And… here they were. Outside Remus’ door.

On the other side, there came a sound – it sounded like the clatter of wings, and scrabbling noises and the door. Everyone shied away from it just in case, before the doors were yanked open.

“Why can’t you just leave out the _fucking window,_ you stupid bird!” Remus was grumbling, glaring at a dove that angrily cooed at him, before flying across the landing to circle around Roman’s head, before landing on his shoulder.

Remus’ eyes landed on them, and he went pale.

“Remus-” Patton started.

Remus slammed the doors closed without another word.

* * *

Remus pressed his back to the door, eyes wide, chest beginning to heave. Holy shit. Holy shit! Was that…. Was that real? Was he hallucinating? Was this a nightmare?

Oh god, his robe was hanging open. If that _was_ the real Patton, then Remus had _absolutely_ just flashed his dick at him. …A few months ago, that premise would have delighted him. But Remus could only feel horrified. He quickly bundled the bathrobe around him, tying the belt too tight as a hesitant knock came at the door.

“Just a minute!” Remus called, high-pitched and panicky, then an aside to himself: “fuck, what are _they_ doing here?”

He started to pace, before he remembered he had to deal with the people who knocked on his door.

“Remus, please,” came _Patton’s voice_ through the door.

“Fuck,” Remus muttered one more time, before he yanked the doors open again and side-stepped, eyes fixed on the floor, letting his friends shuffle inside, before closing it again.

And now they were here. In his room. With him. In the middle of an orgy. They walked through that. They… oh fuck!

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, whirling around and trying to look imposing in his green silk dressing gown.

“We…” Patton swallowed hard. “We came looking for you.”

“Did you tattle on me?” Remus turned on Logan with sharp eyes, who in the very least had the good grace to look guilty.

“I… was worried,” Logan answered without really answering. “About your safety.”

“So you tattled on me.” Remus crossed his arms as Logan shrunk in on himself. He should feel bad about it, hurting his friends; but right then and there, he didn’t really _care._

“Hey,” Virgil growled, and it was such a surprise to realise _Virgil_ was here in his domain, and seemingly _willingly._ “Don’t pick on Logan, alright? He did his fuckin’ best.”

Remus deflated.

“You’re right,” he hummed, and his feet started to walk, and he walked past his friends and family to his balcony, where he leant on the railing and stared off into the horizon. “…You shouldn’t be here.”

“It was a hell of a time to convince my creations to bring us here,” Roman said, and Remus heard footsteps approach, “but we weren’t going to-”

“To _what?”_ Remus cut him off, not turning around, but his hands tightened their grip on the railing enough to _crack the stone._ “Babysit me? I’m not a fucking child.”

“You…” Roman’s voice petered out. “We were worried th-that… that you might, um…”

“Don’t _fucking_ say it,” Remus snapped, but instead of angry, his voice just sounded weak and pathetic.

But footsteps approached, and he pointedly did not turn around, even as the person stopped beside him. Despite himself, Remus’ eyes flicked in that direction, and the black-and-yellow he saw made his heart drop to his stomach.

“…Deceit,” he said stiffly.

“Good evening, Remus,” Deceit replied softly.

“I have to disagree with you on the ‘good’ part,” Remus said bitterly, and he leant forward on the railing and cast his eyes about his landscape.

“Remus,” Deceit started, and his tone sent a sharp pain through Remus’ heart. “Remus, come home, will you?”

“For what?” he snarked before he could control his tongue. “So you can ignore me even harder?”

Deceit flinched. Remus could see that in his peripheral. And he revelled in it for a couple heartbeats, before guilt tried to close his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Deceit said, and that got Remus’ attention, because… Deceit never _apologised for things._

“I’m… what?”

“I’m… _sorry,”_ Deceit choked out again, like it was painful. “I… never fully grasped how damaging my self-destructive tendencies were to the people around me until very recently. And… for the longest time, the only person around me was _you._ ”

Remus stared at him, boggled.

“That… so what?” he asked, earning a look of despair from his father figure.

“I have treated you appallingly,” Deceit forced himself to admit, stepping closer and taking one of Remus’ hands in his own. “And I would like to try and make it up to you.”

“Don’t bother,” Remus took his hand back. “Just… call us even.”

Deceit’s face was blank, but his eyes were grieving.

“I can’t lose you,” he said quietly, too quietly for the others to hear. “Remus, please.”

“You can,” Remus replied, louder. “You don’t need me. Let’s not pretend, alright? You got your favourite kid back. You don’t _need me._ ”

“No, I-”

Remus shook off Deceit’s attempt to take his hand again. “Don’t _fucking_ touch me.”

Deceit flinched, good and proper.

“Remus Sanders!” came an icy voice.

It turned Remus’ stomach on itself. He’d never heard Patton so _cold_ before.  
His face must have dropped so obviously, because the moment Patton stepped into his sightline his face pinched with regret.

“I-I’m sorry,” Patton led with, but he kept his strong voice up. It was kind of hot, actually, if Remus was honest. “But even if you’re struggling, lashing out at people trying to help you is only going to hurt you more.”

“You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” Remus sneered, and watched a concoction of emotions cross Patton’s face.

“Rems,” Virgil started, anger in his voice.

“Oh, shut up,” Remus shot back with a growl. “None of you _care._ None of you care! What happened while I was gone? Did you realise Thomas might actually need me? Because that’s the only reason you would come here _en force_.”

“Is it really so inconceivable to you,” Patton said softly, somehow undeterred, “that we’re here because we _do_ actually care about you?”

“Shut up!” Remus shouted, and he put his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes closed. “Shut the fuck up!”

The hands migrated from his ears to into his hairline, and Remus was sinking to his knees, gasping through enough pain to make tears bead in his eyes – or were they there beforehand?

And someone closed the distance and sunk to their knees before him, reaching forward and taking his hands, stifling a sharp intake of breath, and Remus’ head snapped up to see Patton’s now wide and teary eyes there.

Fuck, Remus wanted to kiss him, wanted to rip his throat out, wanted to hug him, wanted to push him off his balcony, wanted to _french the man’s brains out_ wanted to wanted to wanted to

He ripped his hands back and tore at his hair again, hunching over as his tears spilled over. He was disgusting. It used to be so easy, so simple, so fun.

_Why does love do this to me?_

Patton was persistent. He took Remus’ hands again and didn’t so much as wince as Remus’ nails dug into his skin.

“Remus,” he said, and it was so quiet, but it was the loudest thing in the room. “I… I care about you. Alright? No ifs, no buts, no maybes. I value you and your laughter, your kindness, your smile – the little crooked one when you do something nice and it’s not for anyone to see. I value you even when you struggle. Even when you think you are nothing more than a monster, because… I _get_ that, alright?”

And Remus slowly looked up at Patton, whose skin, spreading from the throat outwards, was splotched with green. His eyes, this time, Remus noticed, were even tinged a little yellow.

“And I don’t know if I care about you more than that yet,” Patton continued, voice shaking. “I’m not saying that to be cruel, Remus, I’m saying it to be honest. It’s not… there’s not _no hope_ , alright? You… have a place in my heart. I hate seeing you suffer, and you’re so set on making yourself do so.”

“But I-”

“You _don’t_ deserve it,” Patton cut him off, squeezing his hands. “… But I convinced you otherwise, didn’t I?”

Remus didn’t reply, just cast his eyes downwards.

“I’m so sorry,” Patton’s voice was now thick with almost-tears. “Let me change your mind, Remus, _please_.”

“You… don’t mean it,” Remus whispered.

“Why?” Patton shot back, voice so thick with grief that Remus couldn’t help but meet his eyes. “Why are you so set on lying to yourself about this?”

Remus didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.

Patton’s eyes were searching his face. Remus let his eyes fall to the green on Patton’s skin.

“You’re…” Remus nodded at it, and watched as Patton flinched, bringing a hand up and feeling it, and Remus was surprised at the level of fear in his eyes.

_Monster._

Patton had called himself a monster too.

“You know nothing about being a monster,” Remus said quietly.

“…You’d be surprised,” Patton replied, even softer, and all of a sudden Remus could see the weight of the world on Patton’s shoulders.

“Who… who did this to _you?”_ he asked suddenly, and he reached out and cupped Patton’s throat so gently (his skin was clammy to the touch) – because at the end of the day he just couldn’t help himself, could he? “Why are you working so hard for so little?”

Patton was shaking his head, subdued, but Remus’ eyes had snapped up to the line of faces staring at them.

“Who…” Remus started, and his expression soured at the guilt Deceit was trying to wipe off his face.

“I just didn’t want him to hurt you,” Deceit whispered thinly, and Patton flinched even as Remus slowly rose to his feet.

“Him?” Remus scoffed, “hurt _me?”_

And something _dangerous_ flashed in Deceit’s eyes. Conviction – conviction brought from experience and years of internalising and hiding and trying to protect himself all boiling over into _anger._

“You don’t know,” Deceit hissed, and he suddenly seemed oblivious to their company and he stalked forward – and Remus stormed over to meet him half-way until their faces were close. “You don’t _know_ what he’s capable of!”

“I _do,_ I think,” Remus sneered back. “It’s not his fault _you_ can’t let anything go, Dee.”

“He told me I was less than the dirt on his shoe,” Deceit spat back, baring his fangs. “He convinced me _we_ were unworthy to be seen, to be loved!”

Patton flinched at the words but didn’t argue, and Remus was shaking from misplaced rage because it wasn’t _fair,_ but Deceit was on a roll.

His voice rose, and he jabbed a finger angrily in Patton’s direction. “It’s _his_ actions, his morals, that put us where we were, all _three_ of us! The damage that’s been done, what Thomas thought of us and thinks of us still. It’s _all his fault!”_

The air was so tense you could cut it with a knife, and the room may well have been silent, but Remus couldn’t hear it over his own grinding teeth and the thunder of his pulse in his ears.

“Fine. You’re still heartbroken, I _get it,”_ Remus shoved Deceit away a few steps, because him being that close – Remus couldn’t stop staring at his nose, wondering what it’d be like to bite it off like the Penguin did in that one fucked-up Batman movie, the one where Catwoman got eaten by cats after falling to her death, “But how has it made you _this_ blind? Haven’t you seen how he’s changed?”

“It doesn’t-”

“It doesn’t _matter?”_ Remus cut him off, voice cold as ice. “It doesn’t _mean anything?_ It doesn’t _count?_ If Patton’s _obvious_ character growth means nothing to you, how can you stand there and tell me in the same breath _I_ deserve better?”

“Remus, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Isn’t it?” Remus threw his hands in the air. “If you won’t acknowledge he’s changed, you won’t let the status quo change, so we’re stuck as we are, even though it makes you miserable!”

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling himself deflate. “And I… I’m changing too, Deceit,” he finally admitted, though he knew nothing scared his father figure more than _change._ “I’m not whatever kid you have saved in your head. And I’m sorry that’s not good enough for you.”

“Remus, that’s not…” Deceit, for once, was lost for words, but there was genuine and true heartbreak in his eyes.

“Get away from me,” Remus said, heart heavy, but his eyes were hardening. Especially when Deceit looked at him, still so lost. “Go on, git!”

Deceit didn’t move.

“All of you!” he finally snapped. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

“Home?” Roman echoed faintly.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed. “ _Home_. I’m staying here. My creations will guide you to my door.”

He clapped his hands twice, and the doors to his chambers banged open. Huge, eight-foot-tall mechanical robot things trudged into the room, beginning to usher his friends out of the room.

Then, suddenly-

“No,” Roman said sharply, and he waved a hand, and the robots froze in place. “No! I’m not… I’m not accepting this for an answer.”

“You’re going to have to,” Remus glared. “Unless you want a fight?”

“I can’t believe how wrong this has gone,” Roman had his sword in hand, but it seemed mostly instinctual, like he hadn’t even realised he’d drawn it. “Remus, brother, I _fucking_ love you, okay? And we both know how bad staying in here can be. You… I’m not abandoning you again, alright? I can’t lose you again.”

“You all keep talking about losing me,” Remus spat bitterly, “as if I’m valuable enough to keep.”

“You are,” Virgil piped in, though he was shaking terribly, on the edge of breaking completely.

And Remus _laughed._ “Sure thing,” he crowed, cruelty flashing in his eyes. “I’ll definitely believe it from _you.”_

Virgil let out a _scream_ of frustration and pain at that. Remus flinched, taking a hasty step back – everyone did. And hell, Virgil was tearing at his hair even as the guilt settled heavy and thick in Remus’ throat.

 _“Shut up!”_ he hollered, his voice harsh and grating. _“What is it with you guys?! Why does the past keep mattering? I made my mistakes, I thought…”_

Virgil took a huge gasping breath, and suddenly he was choking back tears, and Logan stepping forward to catch him as Virgil looked like he was about to faint.

“I thought… I thought I’d finally done enough,” Virgil was sobbing now, and the tempest tongue was wearing off. “I thought… I could fix it. Fix us. You… you had me thinking we _could_.”

Remus’ hands were shaking.

“I want to,” he said, before he could control himself. “Over Cthulhu’s rotting corpse, I _want to.”_

“Then _let us!”_ Virgil was shaking like a leaf. “Let us… let…”

He buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, and Logan just hugged him, looking terribly guilty. Remus could see it in his eyes; he was searching for something to say. Logan always knew what to say. But that clever tongue of his was kept sealed behind his lips, lips now pressed into a thin line.

Remus felt like the air was knocked out of him.

The mechanical beings he’d summoned disintegrated in a shower of bubbles at the snap of fingers, and he felt a warm hand on his back, burning through the thin silk of his dressing gown.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered, and his whole body _twitched_ like he was holding himself back from hugging his brother. “I-I’m so sorry.”

Remus sighed heavily, before turning and opening his arms, letting Roman hug him. “Don’t apologise,” he whispered back. “If there’s anyone here who’s fault it is, it’s _not yours.”_

“I didn’t keep your secret,” Roman had also buried his face in Remus’ shoulder, and Remus could feel the silk getting wet. “I… I failed you with the one thing you trusted me with.”

“I’m not mad,” Remus shook his head. He was well past that now. “But hey! Maybe you guys can make a ‘Spilling Remus’ Secrets’ Club! I hope you make t-shirts.”

 _“Remus,”_ Deceit hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remus brushed it off, lip curling, and he pushed Roman away so he could look at Deceit. _“Not appropriate.”_

Deceit closed his eyes, seemingly counting to ten, and it was then that Remus realised Patton hadn’t really been in the conversation much recently. He cast his eyes around the room, and his heart dropped a little.

Obviously, Patton had noticed his altered features in Remus’ very large vanity mirror, and couldn’t help himself from inspecting closer. He could see the horror in Patton’s eyes as he tugged and pulled gently at his weird, waxy, clammy, green skin.

And how it was spreading.

And how Patton’s breathing was picking up. And how silent tears were dripping down his face. And in the mirror – their eyes met, and Patton buried his face in his now-webbed hands to try and hide it.

And suddenly, everyone else in the room didn’t _matter._ Deceit didn’t notice he was looking past him. Roman just look wounded that Remus pushed him away. Virgil and Logan were still making mooneyes at each other or whatever was happening in that corner.

Remus crossed the room, pushing past Deceit, and stopped a pace or two away from Patton.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Patton…”

_“Don’t look at me!”_

The cry was loud and raw and strong, and Patton’s entire body shuddered and seemed to shift, desperately trying to grow bigger but also trying to stay normal. It looked painful, and sounded it too, if Patton’s exclamations were anything to go by.

“I…” Patton finally peeled his hands off his face and, well, Remus could now confirm that the green clamminess did _indeed_ come from a frog. And Patton swung around and saw himself in the mirror and screamed.

“It’s okay!” Remus tried to cry, springing forward to try and lay a comforting hand on Patton’s arm – by _god_ he was so _big now!_

“Please!” Patton swung an arm vaguely in his direction, and unfortunately hit his mark, knocking Remus to the ground with an _oof!_ And Remus regretted making a sound because now those weird yellow eyes of Patton’s were locked onto him and full of _terror_.

“I’m sorry!” he begged. “I’m sorry!”

“I’m not hurt!” Remus was climbing to his feet. “Please, Pat, _please,_ let me-”

Patton’s form _lurched,_ there might have been an explosion –a huge release of pent up energy that just needed to _escape_. Guards burst in through the door. Hands covered in silk gloves grabbed him and yanked him backwards.

“No!” Remus was struggling to fight, but his… uh, _wild parties_ had left him in a sorry state. “No!! Guards, guards, stand down!”

His guards did as told, shooting him concerned and confused looks but the damage was already done.

Patton was freaking out. Understandably so. And one does not always do sensible things in a panic attack.

That was the only explanation for why Patton jumped off the third floor balcony and out onto the roof, putting as much distance between him and them as possible while Remus struggled free from Deceit and now Roman’s grip.

The room was silent.

“What… was that?” Logan finally broke his silence.

“ _That,”_ Remus spat out, finally wrenching himself free, running to the balcony at the retreating figure now having made it off the castle roof and through the town, running away into the woods, “is your dearest amphibian father figure.”

“What…” Virgil croaked, throat sore from his tempest tongue. “What did you do to him?”

Remus snapped around, eyes blazing with outrage, and it was more than enough to have Virgil shying away.

“I…” Remus ran his hands through his hair. Despite himself, he didn’t have an answer. He was pretty sure this was a Patton thing, but… maybe it _was_ his fault.

“Remus…” Deceit said once more, but this time it was tired and regretful and hollow. “Remus, come home.”

“Now?” Remus _laughed._ “Woo! I knew your social skills were rusty, double D, but I didn’t think they were this bad!”

He gave Deceit a playful shove that wasn’t really that playful.

“Get out!” he ordered. “I’m getting dressed.”

* * *

Now in his normal green and black livery, Remus walked with the group to the door, to his entrance to the Imagination.

“So that’s just it?” Virgil finally snapped as Remus opened the doors in a wide gesture, jaw set in a hard expression. “You’re just _leaving?”_

“No,” Remus said, swinging around. _“You’re_ leaving.”

“What?”

The shadows rose up from the ground with Remus’ next blink, and impossibly quick, they wrapped themselves around his family, pinning their arms and lifting them off the ground.

“Hey!” Roman shouted, struggling the most. “Remus, put us down!”

“You’re leaving, now,” Remus said, still calm, “and you aren’t coming back. _I_ will find Patton, seeing as you all hate each other too much to get along.”

And he flicked his fingers, and the shadows moved to dump everyone in a heap back in the mindscape, and Remus conjured a huge and heavy plank to bar the door with, trying his best to ignore the look of betrayal he was getting from Roman.

“Remus, please,” he begged.

“Stay put, for pete’s sake,” Remus told them firmly as the shadow arms retreated quick as a flash, and closed the majestic green and silver doors behind them. The shadows helped him slot the beam into place, even as Remus heard fists hammering on the other side.

“I’ll get him back!” he yelled through the door. “Just… just leave it alone!”

And he set his back to the door and began to walk.


End file.
